


Swept Inshore

by Marthypie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Castiel, Consort Castiel, Falling In Love, Fanart, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, King Dean, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Political Alliances, Pregnant Castiel, Prince Castiel, Prince Dean, Religious Sacrilege, Slow Burn, Top Dean, Violence, War, Xenophobia, a sort of dub!con scene, mention of abortions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 123,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marthypie/pseuds/Marthypie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew that as Prince of the Oceanic Kingdom , it was his duty to serve his King and country, and that he should feel honoured that his father had chosen him to bear the responsibility. Yet,  whenever he thought about it, his heart would sink like an anchor to the bottom of the sea. Never in his life had he dreamt that his Father planned on selling him off to the Inlander nation as if he were merchandise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aiming to update this every Sunday/Monday , but depending on my workloads at uni it might be later by a day or two. I'll try and keep y'all updated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The art at the bottoms is by the lovely castielssexappeal , it's awesome huh? :D
> 
> Go follow 'em on tumblr!

Castiel drew in a deep breath of the salty ocean air as he stood and watched the sun break over the horizon.  The waves were lapping at his shins and the breeze gently tousled his hair, as if the Sea Goddess herself was offering him what little comfort she could provide.  The gulls that usually soared through the air had not yet stirred from their nests, so all was quiet. And frankly, Castiel was glad of it.

With how chaotic his life had been as of late, he was happy for the reprieve, for a chance to actually have a moment to himself so that he could sort through the thoughts that hurtled around in his mind. Everything had happened so fast, one moment his life had been ordinary. Perhaps a little mundane, but it had been safe and familiar. But now, he felt as though he was being dragged down into the depths and no matter how much he struggled to swim to the surface, his efforts were all in vain.

He knew that as Prince, it was his duty to serve his King and country, that he should feel honoured that his father had chosen him to bear the responsibility. And yet whenever he thought about it, his heart would sink like an anchor.  It had all been so sudden,  a few days ago he had been reading in the grand library as he so often did, when a servant had politely ducked in and informed him that the King had requested his audience. His Father never called for him, so of course he was curious to find out what he wanted. But he had never dreamt that his Father planned on selling him off to the Inlander nation as if he were merchandise.

He had protested, he had screamed until his throat burned as if he had swallowed sea water.  The guards had to drag him from his Father’s study as he was kicking up such a fuss. They had shoved him into his chambers and locked the doors, having received orders not to let him out till he had calmed down. But it had amounted to nothing; his pleas for mercy had fallen upon deaf ears. It was final, he was to marry the Inlander and nothing he could say or do would change that.

Since then, Castiel had thought about it a great deal over the course of the past few days. He understood that this marriage was a key component in the peace treaty between his kingdom and that of the Inlanders. If everything went smoothly, not only would the kingdom have a new trading partner but they would also have a valuable ally.  Compared to most kingdoms in the continent, the Oceanic kingdom was actually rather small. It`s nation consisted of a thin strip of land that ran along the coast on the Southern peninsula.   So it made sense that they were trying to establish alliances with larger, more prominent nations. He understood why his Father wanted to marry him off and he had come to terms with his fate, but he was bitter about it. He just didn’t understand why his Father would do this to him. Was it a punishment? Or was he simply getting his youngest son out of the way for convenience sake?

And then he had worries about the marriage itself. What if he was married to someone who was cruel and callous? Someone who would use him like slab of meat for their own pleasure? Surely his Father wouldn’t force such a fate upon him; even he couldn’t be so cold-hearted. That was what Castiel told himself, even though he knew his Father was likely capable of such a thing.  His fate was sealed, the Inlanders were on their way and all Castiel could do was pray to the Sea Goddess for mercy, maybe even deliverance. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about running away, abandoning his responsibility as a Prince. But what good would that achieve? The Inlanders would likely take offence and all possibilities of a treaty between their nations would be ruined.  The worst case scenario would be that they would declare on them, everyone knew that the Inlanders had a formidable army.  The Oceanic Kingdom would not stand a chance of escaping their fury unscathed.  Castiel couldn’t do that to his people, he couldn’t put their lives on the line because he didn’t want to marry some faceless Inlander.

And so Castiel had come to the conclusion that he would simply have to accept his fate like a good son and Prince. He cast a glance behind him, up at the palace that was perched up on top of the cliffs that overlooked the beach. It was a grand palace made of white sandstone that was quarried from the cliffs it sat upon. The palace was open, well lit and spacious with numerous balconies, pillars and towers. Castiel had been born in that palace and until recently, he had thought he would die there too.

It was then, he realised that he should be getting back. The servants were likely hurrying around in a frenzy trying to ensure that everything was organised and perfect for the Inlander’s arrival. And by now, they had probably realised that he wasn’t in his chambers. If he didn’t return soon, the guards would be deployed to search for him and that was something he wanted to avoid as he was sure when they found him they would bring him to his father. Castiel was in no mood to receive a scolding today , so of his own free will he began to make his way back up the beach to the palace.

 

                                                                                                                                           

* * *

 

Castiel had managed to make it to the foyer, where the servants were hanging up flags that bore the Oceanic royal emblem, before he had been spotted.  Numerous servants had hurried over and fussed at his wind swept hair, sand caked feet and sodden nightclothes.  They had hurriedly ushered him into the bathing room in an attempt to get him looking presentable before the Inlanders arrived.

“Your future husband will be here any moment and you just wander into the palace looking as though you have just clambered out of the ocean.” Naomi had no issue with reprimanding Castiel when need be. She had long served as the Governess to the royal family and so it was her duty to ensure that the Castiel and his siblings were kept in line.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel muttered, as he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the stool so that a servant could fix the bird’s nest of a mess that was his hair. At the same time, another servant was gently wiping away the sand that had dried on his legs with a damp cloth.

“It is no secret that you are not enthusiastic about this marriage, but it is your duty as a Prince.” Naomi stepped forward into his line of sight, demanding his full attention.  “I raised you better than this Castiel.”

Rather than responding, he simply stared at her. As if he was daring her to actually say what she was implying.  It was true she had raised him but even so she was still a servant and Castiel was still a Prince.  She had to show him respect whether she thought he deserved it or not.

Wisely, she backed down and presumed her pacing back and forth. “Everything has and will be arranged for you. You needn’t worry Castiel; all you need to do is play your part.  Do you remember your lessons?”  She asked as her observant eyes landed upon him once more.

Castiel didn’t really think that they deserved to be called lessons. After all Naomi had simply sat him down and had given him a long list of things he should and shouldn’t do.  He was told to be polite and amiable. But he wasn’t allowed to backtalk and he certainly wasn’t allowed to mutter wry comments under his breath.  The way he saw it, he was expected to be a meek and mild husband whose sole duty was to provide heirs. That wasn’t who Castiel was; he wasn’t born to spend the rest of his life locked away in some dank and dreary castle.  No, Castiel was a free spirit. He firmly believed that he belonged right here, by the sea.

 “Yes.”  Castiel sighed, just to placate her. His attention in fact had shifted to the servant who entered the room with a bundle of finely made cloths, linens and silks in her arms. Naomi hastily approached the servant and began picking the materials up so she could inspect them.  Castiel didn’t recognise any of the patterns or colours, so he assumed that they were not from his wardrobe.

 The amount of money the Crown was spending on this whole event seemed ridiculous to him. For the past few weeks they had been shipping in all sorts of expensive goods you could not get from the coast. Castiel had sat by the docks and wondered as to what was going on  , now it was clear that his Father was making all this effort to make a show of his Kingdom`s wealth and riches. They had to keep up appearances after all.

“What about this one your Highness?” Naomi presented him with a light blue wispy piece of cloth. “It goes well with your eyes.”

 

                                                                                                                                     

* * *

 

By the time that Naomi and the servants were done with him, Castiel’s wrists were covered with silver bangles and a heavy silver necklace lined with jewels hung around his neck. His hair looked (somewhat) neat and was pressed down a silver circlet. The airy, light blue cloth that Naomi had selected had been tied around his hips in typical Oceanic fashion. And she had even made him put on a pair of sandals despite the fact she knew full well he preferred to go bare footed.

He was then led back into the foyer, where he was to convene with his siblings whilst they waited for the Inlanders to arrive.  They too were wearing their finest attire as befitting of the royal family.  Three of his siblings were present, Michael the eldest and next in line for the throne, Gabriel who was well- he was just Gabriel and Anael the King’s youngest child and his only daughter.

Placing himself in between Gabriel and Anael, as was customary, Castiel took a moment to steel himself. This was it; there was no backing out now.  His betrothed would be here any moment now; he would soon be meeting the man he would be spending the rest of his life with.  Castiel fruitlessly hoped that they would be delayed, that perhaps they had gotten lost on their way here or that the Inlander King had decided that he no longer wanted to marry his eldest son off to such an insignificant Prince.

“Nervous Cassie?” Gabriel asked, breaking him out of his stupor.

 Castiel turned to look at his brother and unsurprisingly he was eating was eating a banana. It was a rare sight to see him not eating something sweet.  “A little.”  That was a blatant lie and they both knew that.

Forcing the remainder of the banana into his mouth, Gabriel tossed the peel to the floor. Beside him, Michael tsked and gestured for a servant to pick it up.

“Yooove got nothin’ to worry aboot.” Gabriel muttered, trying to speak and chew at the same time. He swallowed before speaking again.  “Dad might be a dick, but he’s not _that_ bad. He wouldn’t marry you off to someone you couldn’t handle.”  Gabriel gave him a reassuring pat on his back and offered him smile. They weren’t close, but even Gabriel could tell that his brother was deeply concerned about the marriage.

His sister on the other hand was practically thrumming with excitement.  The whole time she had been standing in line, she had been turning around so she could gossip with the rabble of her handmaidens who stood nearby.  Recently, the Princess had taken to reading books in the library that were about far away kingdoms and gallant Princes who would ride in and save the day. Castiel didn’t have it in him to tell her that life wasn’t so kind and that she was unlikely to have her own happily ever after.  She was so young and Castiel felt as though she deserved a few years more of blissful ignorance. So he had said nothing and would simply smile whenever she would rush over to him to tell him about this new story she had been reading.

It was then he could hear the thunder of hooves in the courtyard and voices that had a thick, unrecognisable accent. The servants, who had been milling about, sorting out the finishing touches to the décor, suddenly burst into action again and made themselves look busy.  Castiel turned to see his father, the King emerge from the corridor upstairs and slowly began to descend down the white marble staircase.  Wordlessly, the King went to stand beside Michael and looked ahead as the heavy stone doors were pulled open.

The Inlanders were here and it was time for Castiel to meet his future husband.

The first thing that Castiel noticed about the Inlanders was that they were so pale. It looked as though they had never seen a day of sun in their lives, as if they came from a place where the sun was always hidden by angry storm clouds. The next thing he noticed was that they were all so large and burly. Castiel knew that they were fierce warriors, but he hadn’t thought they would be so intimidating. Even their expressions were daunting; they were scowling ahead at them as if they had committed a great, unspeakable crime against them.  Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the next, was he to marry one of these men?  It was clear to see that these warriors were a great deal older than he was. It was only when the group of warriors parted, that Castiel allowed a relived sigh to pass his lips.

The three males that moved forward were clearly Inlander royalty. Their clothes were made of finer, more expensive materials, and they were adorned with golden jewellery that befitted their status. It was then that Castiel belatedly realised that the burly men were their body guards, which really did make sense as there were sheathed swords attached to their belts and they were hovering protectively around the three new comers. 

There were two Princes, so it was safe to say that Castiel would be marrying someone’s whose age was close enough to his.  The tallest, the eldest of the two well, Castiel had to admit that he was pleasant to look at.  Castiel had never been one to put much stock in someone’s appearance but even he had to admit that he was very pleasing to the eyes. His face was angular, his features well-proportioned and he still had fading childhood freckles speckled across his cheeks.  His hair was short and cropped, as if someone had recently sheared it with little care for the style and the colour was akin to that of wet sand. What Castiel found most enthralling however, was the colour of his eyes; they were as green as the leaves on palm trees.  His stature was also befitting of an Inlander warrior, he wasn’t as stocky as the guards were, but he was still muscular and tall.

 Next, Castiel`s attention went to the boy that stood closely beside the elder Prince, he looked nervous, like a fish out of water. Castiel wondered if this was the first time that the young Prince had ever left the safety of his kingdom.  If the royal children were as sheltered as they were in this kingdom, then Castiel assume that was the case. It was clear to see that this boy was not quite of age, though his gangly figure told Castiel it would only take a year or two for him to get there. His hair was long, floppy and brown and Castiel thought he could seriously do with a haircut.

The eldest man of three Inlanders stepped forward; it went without saying that he was the King.  He too was strongly built, but the grey hairs, the tired sunken eyes and the lines in his face showed that he was getting on in years. Castiel guessed that the Inlander King was of a similar age to his Father, perhaps a few years younger.

The Inlander King stepped forward and offered his hand out.  It took Castiel a moment to realise that the Inlander expected his father to shake it in a weird form of greeting. Rather than saying anything about it, his father wisely accepted the invitation and shook it firmly. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Oceania. I hope your journey here was pleasant.”

The Inlander King frowned; Castiel guessed that he was not one for pointless small talk.  “It was good enough. These are my sons,” he gestured to them in turn, “Prince Dean and Prince Samuel.”

Apparently that was a cue, as, Prince Dean stepped forward and dropped to his knees in what Castiel assumed to be a show of respect. “It is a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty , your Highnesses.” All the while, those fascinating green eyes of his flickered down the line of Castiel`s siblings.

 He began with Michael, then to Gabriel, then to Castiel. Rather than skimming over him, like he had done with his other siblings, the Prince’s gaze seemed to linger on him, as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Castiel wasn’t sure what he what had caught his attention and frankly, he wasn’t sure if he liked being the object of his scrutiny. Luckily, the Inlander managed to tear his gaze away and he proceeded to give Anael a sparing glance before he got to his feet.

“And these are my children,” Castiel’s father responded and pointed out and named his offspring one by one. “Castiel.” He gestured for him to step forward, so Castiel did. And just like Naomi had instructed to, he played his part and simply recited the words she had told him to say.

“It is an honour to meet you Prince Dean. May I present you with a gift?” Without even needing to call the servant forth, he was handed a wooden box.  “I have heard many tales of your valour and skill in battle, so I thought that this would be a fitting gift for you.” Opening the lid revealed the dagger that was sitting on a pillow in the box.  The dagger was curved and had intricate, weaving patterns that ran down the side of the blade.

“Thank you.” Dean reached out for the blade and took it into hand. With a skill that could only be found in a seasoned warrior, he wielded it for a moment before bringing it close to his face to examine the blade. From the slight smile that curved the corners of his lips, Castiel assumed that he approved of this gift. “I am sure I will put this to good use.” Prince Dean continued, before handing the blade back so that one of the servants could take the gift away for the time being.

Castiel had been expecting a gift in return, not because he actually wanted an expensive bauble of one kind or another (he had never been particularly materialistic), but more so because he thought that was how things went.  One person gave the other a gift, they`d fawn over it and express their gratitude before offering a gift in return. But no, Prince Dean was just standing there looking as calm and collected as he had been before. Castiel cast a look over at his Father, looking for some sort of instruction. The King didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Perhaps we should take a walk together, whilst out Fathers discuss the details of the treaty?”  Prince Dean offered, still sounding perfectly polite. If this was an act, which Castiel suspected it was, it was one that Prince Dean knew how to play well.

This time, when he looked for permission from his Father, it was granted in the form of a curt nod. “How about the balconies your Highness?” At this point, Castiel needed some fresh air to calm his nerves. Keeping up this calm and cooperative pretence was far more taxing than he had previously thought it would be.  

Prince Dean seemed to share his enthusiasm for an escape, as he grinned lopsidedly.  Castiel had a feeling that was the first genuine smile that Dean had done all day. “That sounds like a good idea to me, your Highness.”

                                                                                                                                 

* * *

 

Dean had quickly bowed down to speak hurried words to his younger brother before he turned and offered Castiel his arm. Castiel hadn’t cared to listen in to the brief conversation between the two , but he had managed to catch snippets such as ‘don`t wander off’ and ‘I’ll be back soon’. Accepting his offered arm, Castiel began to lead the way through the corridor that led to the balconies.

“So Castiel ... “Prince Dean began with a voice low as he glanced over at him. “I`m gunna go out on a whim here and say that you’re unhappy about this whole marriage.”

Castiel averted his gaze for a moment as he tried to smother the swell of panic that had flooded to the surface.  He had thought that he had done well to hide his feelings, but apparently that wasn’t the case.  “Is it that obvious?”  He asked, forcing himself to look back at him.

“Not really. I’m just good at reading people is all.” The Prince smiled earnestly, but not a moment later his expression faded into something far more sombre, troubled even. “Is it me, or the marriage?  

Whilst it was unnerving that he saw through his pretence so effortlessly, Castiel thought it best not to make a fuss of it.  If he was to spend the rest of his life with Dean, it would be best if they started off on the right foot.  And for whatever reason, he felt as though he could honest with Dean, that he wouldn’t judge him or reprimand him for his opinion. “It’s not you. It’s just-“he sighed deeply and took a moment to gather his thoughts.  “This is a lot to take in your Highness. I had never thought that my Father would use me like this. I understand the importance of this treaty, and I know both of our kingdoms will benefit from it. I just don’t appreciate being used like this. To be honest, I’m not even sure why he chose me.”

Prince Dean was quiet a moment.  “I’m not gunna pretend that I know what your Father`s planning.  But I swear to you, I’m in the exact same position that you’re in.  I’ve never been interested in getting hitched, but I’m gunna be King one day so it’s something I`ve got to do this whether I want to or not.  We’re stuck in this together Castiel, so we might as well make the best of a bad situation and try to get along. What d’ya think?”

What did Castiel think? Well, it seemed as though Dean had been thinking about this just as much as he had. In a way, it was reassuring to know that he wasn’t the only one who was being forced into this. It made the whole affair easier for Castiel to stomach knowing that whilst this was unpleasant situation for both of them, if they worked together it could be a great deal easier for the two of them. Castiel hadn’t known Dean for long, for a few minutes at most, but from what he could tell Dean was trying his best to put Castiel’s worries to rest.  So it only seemed fair that Castiel play his part as well.  

“Yes, that sounds fair.”                                                                               

By that point they had just made their way out of the dimly lit corridor and out into the open space of the balconies.  It was grand and expansive, with an absolutely stunning view of the ocean. Castiel led Dean to the ledge so they could both look out at the sea together. It was nice and quiet out here, and the nearest guards were stationed at the end of the corridor so they would be able to have a conversation in peace.  It was only when they both leaned against the stone railings, that the Inlander pulled his arm back.  Strangely, Castiel missed the contact, the support that he had been offering him.  It had felt good, as if the Prince was his flaming beacon in the night, keeping him from crashing into the rocks and sinking down into the depths. To make do, Castiel pressed his palms against the grainy stone to ground himself, to help him keep focused on the there and then.  Dean seemed pleasant enough but even so it was wise that he keep his wits about him. After all, the last thing he wanted to verbally trip and say something that could offend him and tear this whole treaty down.

“You know I’ve never seen the ocean before, being an Inlander and all. It smells weird, like salt. And it’s hotter here than I thought it’d be. Suppose that explains why you folk run around wearing hardly nothing at all.” A sly smirked curved the Prince’s lips.

Castiel frowned at that but decided it best not to argue. “It’s not even that hot right now your Highness. You should change by midday or you are going to feel sick.”

 “Enough with the whole, your Highness crap. No one’s around to hear, just call me Dean. “

“If that’s what you wish your- Dean.” It felt odd to refer to him so casually, but if it made him happy Castiel was happy enough to go along with it.

“Good. So I was thinking, you know if we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives together, we should set up some ground rules. Just to make it easier for the two of us.”

“Such as?”

“Uhhhh.”  He drawled, his expression pinching in thought.  “Well, you’ve got to be good to my brother.”

“Yes, I can do that.” The boy seemed sweet, so Castiel didn’t think he would have any issue with him. “And perhaps you could have a chapel built for me at your castle, as I know you don't worship the Sea Goddess.”

“Ah yeah, we don’t. “ Dean exhaled heavily and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I can do that for you, as soon as we get back home I’ll get someone on it.  So, I know neither of us wanted this marriage but I’ve got to ask you not to screw around with anyone else.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel snapped, yanking his hands away from the stone railings so he could take a step back from the Inlander.

Castiel knew that he was expected to be on his very best behaviour so that he would represent his family well. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to stand there and let his future husband insult him like this.  Castiel had been every bit polite to him and he had hoped that Dean would treat him in the same way.

Dean raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not- I wasn’t-“he took a steady breath and dropped his hands. “I wasn’t implying anything.” He reassured. “I’m just saying that if this treaty is going to work, we both have to play by the rules.  If either our families figured out that either one of us was doing the do with someone else, well they`d be pissed. And who knows what could happen. I don’t want to risk that and I’m sure you don’t want to either.”

Castiel’s glare softened and eventually faded from his face all together.  “I understand.” He moved back so that he was now standing beside Dean and he pressed his palms back into the stone. “I would like to have my own chambers.”

Castiel had thought that Dean would have agreed to that request just as easily as he had done so before. But instead, he turned away and looked back to the ocean. A twinge of worry tightened Castiel’s chest at his response, well lack of response.

It took Dean a while to respond but when he did, he sounded awfully apologetic.  “I know that you probably want to have your own space but as husband and husband we are expected to share a room, to sleep together and produce heirs when the time comes.”

“Oh.” Castiel said.

Dean was the one to break the lengthening silence.  “We don’t have to be by each other’s sides all the time. There’ll be plenty of things for you to do around the castle, there’s the gardens, the library, there’s the uh- the point is that you can do what you want. I’m not going to stop you Castiel.”

“Thank you, Dean.” He granted Dean an ever so slight twitch of the lips, not quite a smile but it was enough to show that he appreciated his effort.  

Dean shuffled closer and good-naturedly nudged him with his elbow.  “Try not to stress so much, I know that you’re bricking it about leaving here and coming back to Lawrence with me.  But I will do everything in my power to try and make you as comfortable as I can.”  He reached out with his pale hand and gently laid it atop of Castiel’s.  “So let me know when you need something, okay?”

Castiel felt his cheeks redden as if someone had struck him with the back of their hand. Dean’s words were immeasurably kind, even though he was under no obligation to treat him this way. He could have treated him like the dirt under his boots and the marriage would have still continued. Dean had no reason to try and win him over, to try and ease his nerves. And yet here he was, being kind for the sake of being kind.

“I will thank you.” Castiel cleared his throat in an attempt to regain himself, but that only seemed to amuse Dean as his smile grew considerably.

“I think I’ve kept you long enough huh?  I bet they’re wondering if you and I snuck off to have a bit of fun.” He grinned when Castiel sent a displeased frown his way. “Seriously though don’t let me keep you; you’ve probably got stuff you want to do before the ceremony.” Only then did Dean pull his hand away.

 Castiel pushed himself away from the railing. “I will see you then.” And with that Castiel turned away and began to make his way up the stairs and towards the corridor from which they had come from.

That conversation hadn’t suddenly made him eager for this wedding; he still was frustrated that his Father was using him for politics. But at the same time, he felt some relief. Castiel had never been good at reading people; he wasn’t a people person per se, but he felt as though Dean was being genuine with him. Of course, he had put on the fanfare in the foyer but only because that was what was expected of him. Castiel had done the same so he couldn’t criticize him for it. But as soon as they had been alone together, he had been frank and honest.  He had been the one to initiate a sort of true between the two of them. He had been the one who had recognised that Castiel was anxious about all of this.  When Castiel thought about it this way, he thought that perhaps this marriage wouldn’t be as terrible as he had been expecting and perhaps in time he might grow to be happy.

Pausing at the mouth of the corridor, Castiel turned to have a last look at the Inlander. He was still standing there, leaning against the railing and watching the ocean.  He watched him for a moment more before turning back and making his way back into the palace.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm from England , so if you're from America , ect that's why my spelling is all funky.
> 
> Also , in this au men are able to both get pregnant and impregnate others. There is no omega/alpha dynamic , and they're not carriers. Everyone was just born that way. Oh and the whole pregnancy thing doesn't happen for a long while in this fic, for the most part it focuses on the development of Cas and Dean's relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

The wedding was set to take place in the early afternoon that day, and so that gave Castiel some time to himself. Dean had said that he wouldn’t force his company upon him and so Castiel assumed that this was his way of proving that he meant what he had said. For obvious reasons, Castiel was still not allowed to leave the confines of the palace, but he was given free roam elsewhere. First, he had visited the library as it was one of his favourite places to go. Now, it only served as a bittersweet reminder of what he was leaving behind.

And so he had moved onto the courtyard to get some fresh air. But he didn’t linger there long, as there was far too much hustle and bustle for him to think straight. Both the Inlander servants and the palaces servants were unloading carriages and carts that held the Inlander’s supplies. They would be staying for a few days, so that the terms and conditions of the treaty could be discussed in greater detail but also to allow the Inlander’s a chance to rest after their long journey here.

In the end, Castiel had retreated to the safety of his bedroom in an attempt to avoid any and all reminders of this marriage.  His chambers didn’t offer much shelter though, as he soon noticed there were a few chests and crates littered around his room.  Upon closer inspection he also realised that some of the baubles and knickknacks he had dotted on various shelves and cabinets were missing. Like the starfish that he had found washed up on the shore and the pearl that Anael had given to him for a birthday gift several years ago.  The books from his personal collection were also missing from the shelves. And even the rug that he had woven with dyed straw had been rolled up and put the side.

The realisation hit him like a giant wall of water.  The servants had been packing away his things for when he left in a few days’ time.

It was as though the world was playing a cruel trick on him, as if its sole intention was to remind him that he couldn’t run from his fate. It was true he could be in a far more dire situation, that he could be marrying a man who foul and harsh. But even so, the entire situation was overwhelmingly unfair. And he prayed that he could have somewhere to hide from the shadow of his future that was stalking him as if he were prey.  But no such a place was to be found, at least not within the palace walls.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Castiel pressed his face into his hands and let out a shaky breath.  Castiel was a young man (of the age of 18), a Prince of the Oceanic kingdom and yet he felt as though he was a scared little boy.  His hands were trembling and he felt as though he was drowning, that he couldn’t drag enough air into his lungs. It really was unbefitting; in fact it was downright shameful that he was panicking like this. That he had allowed this situation to reduce him a nervous wreck. What happened to his earlier composure? He had been calm and accepting, though he was still anxious.

Castiel took in a deep, steadying breath and forced himself to sit up straight. He had to stop this, he had calm down.  Getting himself distressed and working himself up into a mess helped no one. The least he could do was stick on a game face so that he could play his part.  Castiel assured himself that he knew what he was supposed to do; after all they had run through the rehearsals a few days prior. So all Castiel had to do was simply do his bit for his King and Country , just like Naomi had said , everything else would be taken care of.

By the time a servant had arrived to come to collect him, he had calmed down considerably. He had just needed to get it all out of his system, to mentally prepare himself for the tasks ahead.  Castiel was of course still nervous, but he had smothered it down, hiding it in the deepest and darkest reaches of his mind. He knew he couldn’t afford to show weakness in front of an audience, certainly not in front of his Father and the Inlander King.  So to save his families face, he forced on an aloof, distant expression, a mask that hid his true feelings. It was the sort of expression that was often seen on his eldest brother’s face, the sort that gave no hint as to how he was really feeling. 

Once more, he was led into a room to get changed. But this time his clothes had already been chosen out for him.  It was a typical Oceanic ceremonial garment, a long white tunic made of thin and wispy material. It was pretty to look at and it was obvious that it had taken a lot of time and skill to make it, but he resented what it represented so that was more than enough to stop him from appreciating the handicraft.  The maids who were helping him dress seemed to pick up on his disagreeable mood, so rather than chatting excitably as they had been before, they lowered their voices to soft whispers as they smoothed out the material and helped him put on his jewellery. 

* * *

 

As was typical of Inlander custom, the wedding was to take place within a chapel. Whilst the one that was located within the palace grounds was not devoted to whatever God the Inlander’s worshipped, King John had agreed to make do with it.  The wedding itself was to be a combination of both of the cultures traditions. The Dean would say his vows and go through the motions according to his land’s customs. And Castiel would abide the practices of his own nation.

Once Castiel was fully dressed in his ceremonial clothing, he convened with his Father who was waiting outside of the chapel doors. Being led down the aisle was another Inlander practice that his Father had agreed to. Just as he had expected, his Father barely spared him a glance, it was as though the man couldn’t even stand to look at his own son.  Wordlessly, he waved his hand, a silent command for the servants to push open the heavy stone doors of the chapel. As a gap appeared through the doors, Castiel heard the chitter chatter of conversation within the chapel come to halt.

Resting his hand upon his Father’s arm, the King led him into the high ceilinged room.  Like the rest of the palace the room was carved from white stone and had large slits cut into it so that both the sea air and sunlight could enter. As Castiel was led down the aisle, he did not spare a look to the people who sat upon the rows of pews either side of the aisle. He knew that they were nobles from his nation and that if he were to look he would likely recognise some faces in the crowd. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have to force on a smile; he didn’t want to run the risk of them seeing how unhappy he was.

Standing at the altar, next to the minister was Castiel’s soon to be husband. Dean was dressed in what Castiel assumed to be traditional Inlander clothing however, a few adjustments had been made to it to ensure that he would not overheat in the tropical, Oceanic weather. Dean turned so that he was now facing Castiel as he approached the altar.  His smile was soft, reassuring. Castiel had no doubt that Dean could once more see through his façade , that he knew despite how calm he looked on the surface there were a myriad of emotions and worries writhing beneath the surface. And that if Castiel let his guard down for one moment, he ran the risk of letting them escape.

Coming to a stop just short of the altar, the King pulled his arm away and bowed curtly, he then went and sat beside Michael on the first row of pews.  Gabriel was sitting on Michael’s other side and next to him sat Anael.  Out of all of his family members, Gabriel was the only one who looked sympathetic. Rather than making a crude face or an inappropriate comment like he would have usually done, he offered Castiel a small but supportive smile. Anael still caught up her dreamland of happy ever afters, gave him a near frantic wave, she was barely able to contain her excitement. And of course, Michael gave no support or smile.

Dean offered his hand and helped him step up onto the altar platform. Dean’s hold was firm and his palm calloused from years of wielding swords and daggers.  But at the same time, his touch had an air of gentleness to it, he wasn’t gripping onto him tightly and he wasn’t holding him in place.  He was simply offering his silent support in the only way that he could right now. It was only then, when they were standing side by side, holding each other’s hands that the minister began the long and monotonous ceremony.

A few minutes into the ceremony, Dean began to fidget. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next as if he was having trouble keeping still. And the way his eyes would wander made no secret that he was having trouble paying attention as the minister droned on about the sanctity of marriage. Castiel didn’t blame him of course, he too was bored and he could think of one hundred other places he would rather be in that moment. But he had thought that Dean might have taken this a bit more seriously, or that he would have at least pretended to pay attention. The only thing that Dean didn’t let slip, was how he held Castiel’s hand.   Rather than letting his grip go slack, it was as strong as it had been the moment he had taken his hand.

After what felt like an eternity, eventually it was time to exchange vows.

“I, Prince Dean of Winchester accept Prince Castiel of Oceania as my lawfully wedded husband.”  Dean proclaimed his voice sure and firm. He didn’t see at all bored or antsy now. He was resolute and assured, as a Prince should be.

“Will you welcome him into your home? Will you provide for him and shelter him from the harsh winter cold?” The Mister asked, his loud voice reaching all corners of the chapel.

“I will.” Dean spared a quick glance over at Castiel before returning his gaze back to the minister.

“And you Castiel? Do you accept him as your husband?

“I do.”

The minister made a sweeping hand gesture and two servants approached. One held a silver goblet full of sea water. And the other had a pillow on which two golden rings sat.

Without needing to be asked, they both sank to their knees. The minister dipped two fingers into the water and traced lines and shapes along the skin of Castiel’s cheeks and forehead as he muttered away in Enochian. Once he was done with Castiel, he moved onto Dean and repeated the process.

“In the eyes of the Sea Goddess, I proclaim you wed.”  The minister handed towels to them so they could dry their faces and gestured for them to get to their feet.

With Dean’s assistance, Castiel got to his feet, careful not to tread on long skirt of his tunic.  The servant holding the pillow came closer and stood by the minister’s side. She offered the pillow forward; Dean reached over and took one of the rings off the pillow. It was a thick golden band with a single blue stone imbedded in it. Its design was simple yet elegant, so Castiel approved of it.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes firmly watching Castiel’s face. He regarded him in the same way one would treat a skittish wild animal: with caution and care. Castiel appreciated the sentiment, but he felt that it was unnecessary. Castiel was many things, but he certainly wasn’t a feeble damsel in distress.  He gave him consenting nod, and so Dean gingerly slid the ring onto his ring finger.  

It was a perfect fit.

Dean’s ring was also a thick golden band and it too was also of a rather simple design. But instead of the lone blue stone, its jewel was green, very much like the colour of his eyes.  Following Dean’s example, Castiel picked up the ring and slid it onto the other’s finger.

“In the eyes of God, I pronounce you wed.” The minister announced once they were holdings hands once more.  “You may now kiss.”

Castiel had known this part was coming, but still he was dreading it with every fibre of his being.  Castiel had never been well, intimate with anyone before. He had never had an interest in anyone in that way. Sure, he could appreciate their aesthetics but it never went further than that. He never felt a desire to actually share intimate moments with someone.  Gabriel had once told him that he was just being fussy and difficult, but Castiel felt as though it was something more than that, it went deeper than him simply being picky. So it went without saying that Dean would be taking his first kiss and well- other things as well. Castiel didn’t want to get too deep into those thoughts right now, lest they caused his emotions to bubble to the surface.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated the gentle hand that cupped his cheek.  Or the way that Dean’s thumb slid back and forth.  There was uncertainty in his eyes and his cheeks were flushing red and bringing out the countless freckles that were dotted on his skin. And then, Dean leaned closer and kissed him. It was just a simple press of lips, nothing more and nothing less.

As quickly as he had ducked in, Dean pulled back and thankfully put a decent amount of space between the two of them. The kiss hadn’t been bad, Castiel hadn’t hated it. It was something strange and new and at that point he couldn’t decide whether he had actually liked it or not.  But at the same time he was glad that part was over, for a while at least he would be able to take it easy.

* * *

 

After the audience had finished their long applause, Dean had led Castiel back down the aisle as husband and husband. The Lords and Ladies had bid them their congratulations as they had passed and bowed respectfully.  They made their way out of the chapel and were guided to a side room so they could change into more comfortable clothes.

“Thank God that is over. If I have to smile and wave any more today I think I might lose it.”  Dean muttered as yanked his tunic over his head. Politely, he was facing the wall so couldn’t watch Castiel get changed.

 “Hmm.” Castiel hummed in agreement as he slid the numerous bangles and bracelets off of his arms. He also turned around so he couldn’t see Dean change.

“So what’s happening next? I thought I heard someone mention a beach party.”

Ah yes, the beach party. Now that was a custom of his people.  Generally, Oceanic weddings took place on the beach where the ocean was literally a witness to the affair. However, the Inlander’s hadn’t thought it appropriate hence the service was in the chapel.  King John had met them in the middle and agreed that the after party could take place on the beach. Castiel was actually looking forward to the party, it was actually one of the few things that had kept him sane, knowing that in a few hours’ time he would be able to relax and enjoy having a good time with his people. If there were two things you needed to know about the Oceanic people, it was that they were threw incredible parties and they adored the sea.

“You heard right.” Castiel said, putting his jewellery into the wooden boxes provided.  “There will be plenty of food and drink, music, dancing. And I’m sure that by the end of the night everyone will end up drunk and swimming in the sea.”

Dean laughed. “Sounds pretty sweet. Are we Inlanders invited?”  Castiel could hear the shuffling of clothes behind him.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be?” Castiel frowned.

“I dunno. Thought it’d be a Southerner only shindig.”  

“No, as my,” he had to force the word to pass his lips, “husband you are expected to go. If you don’t want to though, I suppose an exception could be made-“

“Nah. It’s fine.  It sounds fun, I wanna go.” He assured, cutting Castiel off before he said anything else.

* * *

 

Dean spent the whole walk to the beach griping about the clothes that were provided for him.   Personally, Castiel thought he looked good, that it accentuated his athletic figure, even if his skin too pale. But it was apparent that Dean didn’t approve. No matter how much Castiel calmly assured him he didn’t look like a girl and that he wasn’t wearing a skirt, Dean’s opinion didn’t change.  Castiel thought the only thing that was stopping him from making a bigger fuss was the fact that they were being escorted to the beach by two Oceanic guards and two Inlander guards.

Dean had leaned close and warned him to be careful of what he said around the guards, as he had no doubt that they would relay what they heard to their Father’s if either of them said something they shouldn’t have.  On one hand, Castiel wasn’t surprised, his Father trusted very few people in his life. But on the other, it was rather frightening to know that they were both on such short leashes. It was clear that their Fathers didn’t even trust them to have a conversation without saying something wrong. Which Castiel found both concerning and offensive.

By the time they had made it to the beach, the sun was already setting and the party was in full swing.  Torches had been speared into the sand, so that once the sun set there would still be ample light for the party goers. Several wooden gazebos had been erected and beneath them people gathered around the buffet, getting their fill of food and drinks. Servants were also wandering around with jugs of wines and were offering refills to however needed them.  An audience had gathered in front of the wooden platform and were listening to the songs that a band of musicians were playing their drums and various stringed instruments. The song they played was fast paced and catchy, the sort that you had hard time resitting the urge to tap your foot along to the beat.  Other guests were sitting on the rugs that were laid down on the sand and having calm conversations with the people surrounding them.  And a few people, Castiel noticed that they were mostly children and those around his age, were playing in the sea. Splashing and laughing as they went about having fun.

As much as Castiel would have liked to wander off on his devices, he knew full well that he couldn’t just abandon Dean. Now they were married (that was a word he still had a hard time stomaching) he had remain by his side during such occasions.  The guards had wondered off to their stations, so at least they wouldn’t have to put with being tailed the whole time.

“Where would you like to-“Castiel began but was quickly interrupted when a young boy bounded up to them.

Even though he was also wearing Oceanic clothing, Castiel immediately recognised him as Dean’s younger brother, Samuel.

“Dean! Have you had a chance to try the-“his words trickled to a stop when he noticed that his brother wasn’t alone.  The smile drained from his face and all of a sudden his posture changed. Rather than being the gangly young teen he had been mere seconds ago, his poise was straight and forced.

“Ah Sammy.” Dean sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his face.  “Don’t worry; Castiel is pretty nice for a Southerner. Aren’t you?” He winked.

What was that supposed to mean? For a Southerner? Castiel squinted, not quite sure whether Dean was insulting him or not.

His response just made Dean laugh and even Samuel seemed to perk up a little.  “Anyways, nice skirt Sam. You look just like a girl.” He teased, giving his brother a light shove.

Sam simply huffed and shoved him right back. “You’re wearing one too.”

“Yeah, but I’m manly enough to get away with it.”

“That wasn’t what you were saying a moment ago.” Castiel interjected, feeling that even though he didn’t really know these brothers he should at least attempt to try and keep the peace between them.

“So this is how it’s gunna be? You two ganging up on me all the time?” Dean shook his head with a smile on his lips. “I take it back Cas, you can be as horrible as you want to him. I don’t care.”

“Can I steal my dear baby brother for a moment?”  Gabriel’s false sweet voice asked, making all three of them flinch a little.

Castiel hadn’t even realised he was there, he had been too busy watching the brothers snipe back and forth at each other. He cast an annoyed squint over at him, as he knew full well that Gabriel was well aware of the fact that he didn’t like being referred to as a baby.  He was no infant. Still, Castiel was curious as to what he wanted.

“Excuse me your Highnesses.” He bowed quickly and followed his brother’s lead as he led them away from the brothers. Surprise surprise, Gabriel was heading towards the buffet.

“Everything going alright Cassie?”  He asked, turning a little to look at his brother who walked by his side.

Castiel merely shrugged. He wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to put his feelings into words right now. And he wasn’t all that sure that he wanted to tell his teasing brother how he felt anyway.

“Hmm.” Gabriel didn’t seem to buy it. But he knew better than to press for a better response. “Anyway, I actually stole you to give you a heads up. Michael is looking to have a chat with you later. Just thought I should warn you. No clue what he wants, but knowing him it’s probably nothing good.”  Gabriel looked pointedly over at the rugs were Michael was standing, having a conversation with one Lord or another.

What could Michael possibly want with him? It wasn’t as though he was the sort to offer reassuring words or advice.  So Castiel had no doubt that he wanted something or another from him. Castiel knew he wasn’t supposed to think such things, but if he were honest he would admit that Michael was his least favourite sibling. Gabriel was a pain but when he wasn’t in one of his moods he was tolerable. And well, Castiel did love his sister even if he didn’t spend much time with her as he would have liked.

“Thank you for warning me.” Castiel said just as they made it under the gazebo.

Unsurprisingly, the guests bowed respectfully to them and congratulated Castiel on his marriage. Other than polite smiles and nods, Castiel didn’t spare them much attention.

Just as Castiel had expected, there was a vast spread of food.  There were squids marinated in sauce, boiled octopus tentacles, grilled swordfish, a large variety of shellfish and even turtle. It all smelled delicious and despite his nerves he was very tempted to help himself.  Gabriel of course didn’t even glance at the seafood; he went straight to the fruit table and helped himself.

“No problem bro.” He paused to take a large bite out of a slice of melon. “Don’t tell him I warned you though. I don’t wanna piss him off, in case he tries to marry me off as well.”

Castiel flinched.  “That was uncalled for Gabriel.” His eyes narrow with annoyance. It wasn’t as if he had deliberately done anything to get into this situation. He had done nothing to ask for this and he despised the fact that his brother was implying that he did. Where had his earlier sympathy gone?   Deciding that he didn’t want to waste time bickering with his brother, he turned and left the gazebo.

And just as Gabriel had warned him, Michael pounced on him as soon as he had left the buffet. He had this sly sort of smile on his face, one he assumed was supposed to be reassuring, but he found it anything but.

“Castiel, you have done well today. Father is very proud.”

He highly doubted that, but he nodded in appreciation all the same.  Generally with Michael, it was less of a conversation than just listening to what he had to say.

“Where is your husband?” He asked, making it pointedly obvious that he didn’t approve of Castiel being on his own.

“He was with Prince Samuel when I saw him last. Gabriel wanted to speak to me.”  

“About?” Michael tilted his head curiously.

 Castiel certainly wasn’t going to snitch on his brother, whether he was being insensitive or not.  Castiel wasn’t cruel after all.

“He wished to congratulate me.”

Michael narrowed his eyes, but said nothing else on that matter.  “This is a very important treaty Castiel, it’s been months in the making. The future of our nation depends on this, so I can’t have you mess this up. I want you to be good to him, please him, make him happy.” A smarmy smile twisted onto his lips. “Provide good , healthy heirs for him.”

Castiel had to resist the urge to cringe right there and then.

“When you have moved inland, I think I might write to you. See how things are going. Would you like that?”

Castiel despised how his brother tended to word things so that it implied that he had a choice in the matter , but he knew full well that if his brother wanted to write to him he would do so anyway whether Castiel said he could or not. Being the next in line for the throne, Michael could get away with throwing his weight around. So Castiel knew it was best if he simply did as he was told and kept his brother happy.

“I would, that would be very kind of you.” Castiel forced a small smile onto his lips, it felt heavy and wrong.

Michael turned a little so he was looking up the beach. His gaze landed upon two figures who were leisurely strolling along, with guards following closely behind. It was the two Kings and they appeared to be in deep conversation. Castiel’s Father never made a habit of attending these sorts of affairs, but he knew that to keep up appearances he would have to at least be present for a little while.

“Yes, well it was a pleasure talking to you Castiel.” By this point, Michael sounded entirely bored. Without further ado, or he simply strolled off before Castiel had even had the chance to bid him farewell.  

* * *

 

Rather than seeking out his husband right away as he should have. He allowed himself to actually enjoy the occasion.  He had sat down near the musicians and listened to the many songs that they played, he had caved into his hunger and samples some of the delicious foods at the banquet and he had even rushed into the shallows where he had played with his sister and others of their age for a long while.  It was true it was childish and unbefitting for a married man but this was his last chance of freedom. And he was certainly going to make the most of it. No one seemed to question his behaviour anyway , so he didn’t see a reason not to.

By the time that Castiel had found his husband in, night had fallen. Dean had planted himself down on a throw and was gladly chugging down wine from the goblet he held in his hand.  From what Castiel could tell, Dean did seem rather merry. Though he wasn’t sure if that was due to the wine or not.  If it was, well he wasn’t the only one as by then a large majority of the party guests were stumbling around drunk, dancing to the music, generally being merry and loud or splashing around in the shallows. All in all, this party was very much the others Castiel had attended before.  Sam was sitting on the mat right next to his brother and he too had a drink by his side, though he didn’t seem be drinking much of it. Instead he was actually munching away on a selection of fruits he must have gotten from the buffet.

“Your Highnesses.” Castiel greeted, bowing slightly.

“Cas, we’ve spoken about this.” Dean said in a way of greeting. He didn’t sound drunk or even tipsy; he sounded pretty much the same as he had earlier.

Castiel had noticed Dean calling him Cas earlier; at first he had thought it was a slip of the tongue. But now he had a feeling it was intentional, a nickname perhaps. Which did seem rather personal, and Castiel didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Yes well,” he cleared his throat and started again. “How have you been enjoying the party? I see you have been swimming.” Sam’s hair was still rather soggy and both of their clothes were sodden, they’d dry off soon though.

“Other than having to put up with random people trying to talk to me, it’s been pretty sweet.” Dean brought the goblet to his lips and had a long sip.  He patted the spot beside him and Castiel took that as an invitation.

So Castiel folded himself down next to his husband. Dean didn’t try to scoot closer or anything, he stayed put right where he was.

“But yeah, me and Sam went for a swim.  What have you been up to?”  He asked, turning to give Castiel his full and undivided attention.

Beside him, Sam looked suspiciously interested in the fruits he had gathered to eat.

 Castiel shrugged, before waving over a servant so he could take a goblet of wine from the tray.  “Enjoying the festivities.” He took a sip of his drink before putting it down.  “And speaking to my brothers.”

 “Sounds fun.” 

“Mmm.” Castiel agreed.  “Have you eaten yet?”  He had noticed that Sam had seemed to help himself to some food, but Dean had not.

“Nah.” Dean dismissed. “Can’t stand fish. And fruit isn’t much better either. I’m good with wine for now.”  To prove his point, he finished off his goblet and ordered another.

Castiel prayed to the Sea Goddess that he wasn’t marrying a drunk, after all people were not the same when they were under the influence of alcohol.

“Very well.” Castiel wasn’t going to make him eat anything if he didn’t want to.

“Hey Sam, why don’t you go find Benny and ask him to take you to your room. It’s getting late.”  Dean suggested, breaking the silence that had settled between them for a while.

“What?” Sam put down the banana he had been in the process of peeling. “It’s not late though.”

“Yeah well, it’s been a long day and we both know how grumpy you get if you don’t sleep enough.”

Sam crossed his arms sulkily.  “I’m not tired.”

Dean’s voice left no room for argument; Castiel hoped that Dean never took that tone with him. “I don’t care, go to bed. Don’t make me get Father.”

Incensed, Sam got to his feet and stomped up the beach.

“Don’t worry about him.” Dean peered over at Castiel with a knowing look. “He’ll be fine by tomorrow. He’s just got it in his head that he needs to keep an eye on us. You know he was more against this marriage than I was? He threw a massive hissy fit, like you wouldn’t believe. I mean Sam and Dad are always butting heads over one thing or another but this was like nothing I’ve seen before.”

“He must care about you a lot if he worries about you so.” He would have been a fool not to realise the brothers were close.

“I practically raised him myself. Our Mother died when he was just a baby so,” he shrugged limply and looked down into his goblet, “you know.”  

“He is very lucky to have you.”

Dean snorted as if Castiel’s words were particularly unbelievable. “Sure, whatever you say Cas.” He gulped down his wine, as if his intention was to finish it off. But he seemed to think against it, and lowered the cup before he managed to drink much more.

* * *

They spent the rest of the party sharing each other’s company and having various conversations. Perhaps conversations was the wrong word, as it was more of Dean talking about various things and Castiel listening.  If Dean took offence to his lack of talkativeness, he didn’t say anything about it. In fact, he seemed more than happy to pick up his slack.  Dean spoke of a great deal of things, he talked about his horse that he was clearly fond of, he spoke of his favourite foods , his likes and dislikes and he even mentioned having a mysterious gift back home for Castiel. Castiel wondered if he was being so chatty because he was inebriated, after all he had finished off quite a few goblets of wine when they had been talking.  

Soon enough, the party was coming to end.  Drunken revellers were stumbling up the beach, whilst the servants began the long chore of cleaning up.  Castiel was surprised when Naomi and her collection of maids that had come to collect him. Not a few moments later, some of Dean’s staff had arrived for him as well.

And so they went their separate ways back to the castle.

Naomi had quizzed him as they walked. She had asked if he had anything to drink, which he had told her he had a little. She asked if he had something to eat, which he told her that he hadn’t. She had scolded him for that, claiming that he needed his strength.

He had been led to his chambers, which had been tidied up since he had been in them last. The chests and crates had been pushed into the corner so it looked neater and his bed had been freshly made.  Several candles had been lit, so the room was bathed in a pleasant orange glow. As always, the shutter was left wide open so the fresh sea air can enter the room.

Even though he is very much capable of undressing himself and changing into his nightclothes, Naomi insisted on making the maids do it.  Perhaps that is for the best, as Castiel wasn’t sure he would actually be able to do it without his fingers trembling. The wedding had been bad enough, but this truly was the part he had been dreading the most all day.  The party had been a suitable distraction but now that was out of the way there was no way he could avoid thinking about this.

Naomi had recently given him the talk, cleared up some things for him, and told him what to do. Still, nervous didn’t even cover how he was feeling. Taking in a steadying breath, he down on the bed and allowed the servants to pull the thin blankets on top of him.

“As you know, there will be four witnesses. Myself, your brother Michael and two people of the Inlander’s choosing.” Naomi told him as she fiddled with the drapery that hung over the bed.  She came over to the side of the bed and tilted up his chin so he was looking at her. “Try not to worry so much your Highness , it will all be over soon.”

Castiel nodded, fearful that his voice would fail him if he tried to speak.  

Moving over to the corner of the room, Naomi ushered the maids out just in time as Michael entered.  Generally, it was tradition for the King to watch over such an affair but seeing as his Father chose not to, it was only natural that his next in line took up the responsibility.  Castiel felt a horrible twist of shame at the fact that his sibling would see him in this way, but there was little he could do about it. Naomi had told him that the curtains would be drawn so they would have some privacy, but that wasn’t enough to calm his worries. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to not have to do this at all.

A few moments later two Inlanders stepped into the room. One is old, gruff and seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face; the other is a bald man who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. None of them spoke up, or introduced themselves. They simply went and stood in the same corner that Naomi and Michael resided in.

And a few moments after they had entered, in came Dean who was also dressed in his borrowed nightclothes.  Wordlessly, Dean circled the bed and settled down beside him. He pulled the sheets up around himself and leaned against the headrest.  It was clear for Castiel to see that his mood had changed dramatically since earlier. Before, he had been smiling and laughing. Now, he was shifting nervously and fiddling with the edge of the throw.  His eyes were pinched and his lips were turned down in a sullen frown.  Just as Dean had said earlier, he was just as unhappy with this situation as Castiel was.

Once they were both settled, Naomi moved to the bed and dragged the curtains closed so that they were both hidden from the small audience gathered in the corner of the room.  

And with that, Dean tentatively shuffled closer, narrowing the gap between the two of them.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Castiel woke to the familiar sound of gulls shrieking outside of his window. 

To put it simply, Castiel was not a morning person.  In fact, there were countless instances of the servants having to quite literally tug him out of bed after he had repeatedly refused to get up. Naomi always used to scold him about it; she complained that it was unbefitting of royalty.   But her words never made any difference, as it wasn’t a habit he intended to break. It wasn’t because he was lazy, not at all; it was just that he enjoyed revelling in the sense of peace and quiet sleep provided.  He liked how it enveloped him like a protective shroud and kept all his worries at bay, it kept things nice and simple for him.

 But in consciousness, things weren’t so simple anymore and they never would be ever again.

So of course, Castiel was in no rush actually get up and go about his day.  With a sleepy yawn, he rolled over and pulled at the sheets a little, only to find that they were snagged on something, that a heavy weight was holding them down. At first he thought nothing of it; his mind wasn’t sharp enough to put two and two together, so he kept tugging at it in hope that it would give way.  But then he heard a throaty noise of complaint from behind him. There was someone in his bed.  Castiel’s eyes snapped open, all his hazy sleepiness was swept away as panic rushed through him like an oncoming tidal wave.  What the hell was going on? Who was this person?  And why were they in his bed?  He didn’t even think to call the guards that were stationed outside of the bedroom, though that would have been the wisest course of action. Instead, he carefully and ever so slowly rolled over so that he was facing the left hand side of the bed, so that he could actually see who was there.

Oh. Castiel blinked and felt the terror recede as quickly as it had appeared.

It was just Dean.

He was laying on his front and was resting his head on his arms that he had folded on top of the pillow. His breaths were slow and steady, like the methodical hiss of waves licking the shore.  At some point in the night, he must have gotten hot as he was lying on top of the sheets and was no longer wearing his nightshirt. Thankfully, he had decided to keep his sleeping shorts on though.

Now that Castiel had been shocked awake and was coherent enough to actually understand what was going on, the memories from last night flooded back into his mind.

At first Castiel had presented himself just like he had been told to:  his sleeping shorts pulled down, on his hands and knees with his rear positioned up for easy access.  Rather than feeling the bed dip as Dean aligned himself behind him or hearing the rustling of clothing, Castiel had felt a placating hand be placed on the small of his back. With a quiet voice, Dean had suggested that he lay down on his front as that way he would be more comfortable.  And so Castiel did.

Castiel had already oiled and stretched himself out prior to Dean’s arrival (as was custom), but the all the same Dean had taken the time to inspect him with gentle, probing fingers.  He had gently stroked his walls and scissored his fingers to make sure that he had been suitably prepared for him. Only when Dean was assured that it wouldn’t be too tight of a fit and he was slick enough did he pull out his wet fingers.  Castiel’s cheeks had burned red with shame and humiliation and he even had to resort to biting his bottom lip to stop himself from whimpering in response to the intrusive feeling. Dean had hushed him by murmuring soft reassurances that it would be over soon, that everything was all right and that he was sorry. He had then positioned himself so he was draped over him, pressing the skin of his hips against the bare skin of his bum.

And then, after a little bit of manoeuvring and repositioning, he had slowly pushed his way inside of him.

Dean’s cock was thick and long, the intrusion had caused a flare of pain to erupt inside of him. It had been sharp, raw, and unlike any other pain that Castiel had ever felt in his life. Tears had sprung to his eyes and he had to muster all of his will power to stop himself from crying out. His hands had fisted the bedding till they whitened and he had shoved his face into his pillow to smother any and all sounds that he made. Castiel didn’t want any of the witnesses to hear him like this, let alone know that he was in pain. He didn’t just thrust in deeply and get on with it, Dean had remained still. His hands had smoothed along the expanse of his back to soothe the trembles that shook his frame and he had pressed soft, reassuring kisses to the wings of his shoulders.

Only once the pain had subsided and Castiel had adjusted to the alien feeling of being so full and stretched out, did Dean move. He kept his movements slow and shallow and didn’t thrust too hard or too firm. It was true that they had an audience and they were expected to just get on with it. But it was obvious that wasn’t what Dean had in mind. Dean had been incredibly gentle with him. Each and every one of his touches were tentative and careful , like he was frightened that if he moved to fast or pushed in too hard, Castiel would shatter into a million tiny shards of glass.

Eventually, Dean began to grunt and puff out breaths against the back of Castiel’s neck.  He was moving faster by that point , and Castiel felt the warm drag of his cock pushing in and pulling back out. It didn’t feel bad per se and it didn’t hurt much either. It just felt, weird. It was conflicting, on one hand he felt humiliated, used and dishonoured. But on the other, there had been such a strange, new feeling. One that he couldn’t make out whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t that he was paying all that much attention; he had been doing his best to just _breathe_.

And then, Dean seized up with a grunt. Castiel felt something warm spill inside of him, Dean’s seed. It was done.

There were murmuring voices behind the drapes and from what Castiel could hear; the general consensus was that the marriage had well and truly consummated. There was the tapping of footsteps on the stone floor, the door creaked open and been closed.

Not a moment later, Naomi had pushed the curtains out of the way. Thankfully, Dean had pulled out and moved back to his side of the bed by that time. She had helped Castiel up and out of the bed and had provided him with assistance as she helped clean up the semen leaking out of his ass. It had been a little odd, after all Naomi had never been the caring sort, at least to this extent. But all the same, Castiel had found comfort in it and the way that she had told him he had done well and it was all over now.

Once he had been tidied up and his night clothes put back on, she had tucked him back into bed and bid them goodnight before leaving the room. The air had been heavy with awkwardness; Castiel didn’t want to talk about it. In fact he had been more than willing to just pretend it hadn’t happened.  Dean, well he didn’t say anything either. He had the sort of scrunched up frown on his face that implied that he did want to say something , but couldn’t quite think of what to say. Instead, he had sighed heavily and opted for settling down in the bed for the night.

Despite the fact that Castiel always used to have no issue with falling asleep , that night it had taken much longer than usual but eventually he had managed to and that was where his memories of last night faded to black.

* * *

 

As if Dean could feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze upon him, he began to stir.  Drowsily, he raised his head off the pillow and looked to his side. His eyes widened for a moment, as if he were surprised to see that Castiel was awake.

“Morning.” His voice was thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” Castiel greeted in return, tugging the sheets up around himself.  “Did you sleep well?” He asked, more out of courtesy than actual curiosity.

“Not really.” He huffed as he pushed himself up so he was sitting. “It was too damn hot.”

Though his hair was short, somehow it managed to be sticking up on its ends. Castiel doubted that it was as nearly as messy as his own hair, because after a nights rest he tended to look as though he had been dive bombed by angry seagulls.

“You?”  Dean patted his hair with a frown.

“Fine.”

Pushing the sheets out of the way, Castiel clambered out of bed. It was only when he was up on his feet that he noticed the pain.  It wasn’t as deep and fiery like it had been the night before when Dean had pushed in; it was more like the tired ache of an exerted muscle. Whilst it was an annoyance, Castiel was certain that he would be able to function just fine.  Castiel had been hoping to just forget what had happened last night; there wasn’t any chance of that happening now with the ache serving as an ever-present reminder.

Sighing, Castiel wandered over to the table in the corner of the room by the window.  More often than not he ended up taking his meals in his room and seeing as he was a heavy sleeper it certainly wasn’t uncommon for him not to notice the servants sneaking in and laying out breakfast for him. Seeing as Dean had stayed the night and presumably was going to take breakfast with him as well, the servants had provided more than enough food for the both of them. Pulling out one of the chairs, Castiel sunk down upon it with a wince.

“You okay Cas?” Dean asked his voice closer than Castiel had anticipated.

He turned in his chair to see him standing nearby, his face pinched with concern.

 “It’s fine. It only aches a little.” Castiel said automatically before he reached for a plate and began to pile some fruits onto it.

He was half way through cutting into his mango when Dean finally spoke again.  

“Cas you know I-“

“No.” He calmly interjected, though his grip did tighten around the handle of the knife.  They were not going to have this conversation. Not today and certainly not at this hour.  No, he needed some time to go over it all, only then would he be ready to actually address the elephant in the room.

Castiel risked a quick glance in his direction and felt a pang of guilt when he noted the wounded expression on his face. He then had to remind himself that Dean had been every bit a gentleman and that if this marriage was to work out; they would have to try and get along.

 “I don’t want to have this conversation right now.” He explained.  “We will have it, just not right now.” And with that, he resumed the cutting of the mango. 

Dean settled down on the chair opposite him and put an empty place in front of him. “Okay.” He nodded, seemingly relieved. “That’s fine.”

* * *

 

Once they had eaten their fill of breakfast (Dean ended up eating both of their portions of the fruit pastries), they had gotten dressed and cleaned up to go about the day. Unlike yesterday, there was a potent lack of urgency around the palace.  The servants were milling around at their usual pace, looking busy and attending their duties, but they certainly weren’t running around like headless chickens as they had been yesterday.  The festivities were over and things were settling back into their usual routines. After the party that had ran on into the late hours of the night, today was a day of rest for everyone and Castiel certainly planned on taking full advantage of that.

They had ended up in the palace stables, as Dean had insisted that there was someone he _had_ to introduce him to.

“She’s a beauty isn’t she?” Dean announced when the approached the stall of a massive black beast.

Castiel knew a horse when he saw one, but this creature was unlike any he had ever seen before. Oceanic horses were thin legged, short haired and muscular. But this horse, well it looked more like an Ox than an actual horse in Castiel’s opinion.

“Uhhh. She’s certainly impressive.”

Dean simply laughed and went forward to affectionately rub her on the snout. The horse snuffed and nuzzled into his touch, she seemed happy to see him. “She’s not too keen on the weather mind you. “

“Just like her rider then.” Castiel said without thought.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “I’ll give you that.”

“What’s her name?” Castiel moved closer to the stall and leaned against the wooden railing.

The horse raised her head, and eyed him warily. But the fact that her master was content to have him standing so close settled her nerves.  So instead of kicking up a fuss, she nudged her face against Dean’s shoulder, vying for more of his attention.

Dean happily obliged her. “Impala. I call her Baby most of the time, cause well you know she’s my baby. Raised her from a foal all by myself.” He seemed very proud of that fact.

Castiel couldn’t help the fond smile that twisted at the corners of his lips.

“You got a horse?” Dean asked after they had been standing there in silence for a few moments.

“I do.” Speaking of, Castiel had been neglecting him a bit as of late. The stable hands had been taking good care of him, he was sure of that. But he just hadn’t found the time to actually take him out for a ride himself.

Leading Dean to the far end of the stables, Castiel came to a stop at the second from last stall. “This is Balthazar.”

His horse was a light tan colour, almost blonde but not quite. He was well groomed and his stall was clean and full of plush straw. Rather than affectionately greeting his master like Dean’s horse had, Balthazar snorted and pawed at the hay.  After much coaxing Castiel managed to convince the horse to come forward. He seemed happy enough to let Castiel stroke the length of his neck but as soon as Dean tried to, he nipped his fingers in warning.

“Son of a bitch!” He snapped, withdrawing his hand with a scowl. He flicked his hand, as if trying to shake the pain away.

“He bites.” Castiel warned, turning so that Dean couldn’t catch the smile on his face.

“You don’t say.” Came Dean’s response. He didn’t sound angry though and when Castiel risked a glance his way he saw a smile on the Inlander’s lips. If Dean was angry at anyone, it was clear that it was directed at the horse and not himself. That was a relief.

“You know,” Dean began as he leaned against the fence, at a safe distance from Balthazar and his teeth, “we should go out for a ride on the beach maybe, if you want.  It might be nice.” He shrugged, staring pointedly at the floor as if it were of great interest to him.

 Castiel had been hoping to ride Balthazar again soon and it would be a pleasant activity to pass the time with. “Maybe when it gets a bit cooler.” He suggested, leaning back to peer at Impala in her stall. “It’d likely be too warm for her now, so the in the evening perhaps?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He frowned for a brief moment, as if he were mentally kicking himself. He brushed it off soon enough though.  “What you wanna do in the meanwhile then? We’ve got a whole day to ourselves.”

Dean was right about that. From what Castiel had been able to tell, nothing was required of them today. Naomi hadn’t cornered him and he hadn’t been summoned by either of their Fathers, so he felt it safe to assume that they were free to spend the day however they liked. Of course, Castiel would have much preferred if he could spend the day alone.  But it didn’t seem entirely fair to just abandon Dean, even though he had said that he didn’t have to share his company if he didn’t want to. Despite not knowing the man, and the events that had taken place the day before, Castiel sort of enjoyed his company.  He was laidback and jovial in a way that wasn’t at all irritating like Gabriel was. Dean was like a breath of fresh air and Castiel couldn’t help but feel tempted to pull in another breath.

“Whatever we like?” Castiel suggested with a shrug.

* * *

 

Whatever they liked ended up consisting of, spending a great deal of time looking for Sam. Dean had been fairly certain that he would be within the palace, but for the life of him he couldn’t quite decide where to look first.  He hadn’t been in the dining room or the balconies. In fact, in the end they (at Castiel’s suggestion) had found him in the library with his nose buried in a book.

“Hey Sam, Benny.” Dean waved to the bored looking Inlander guard who was standing in the corner by the window.

Sam merely grunted in response, too absorbed in the book he was reading to grant his brother a proper greeting. Benny on the other hand waved back, his lips curved into a smirk.

Dean didn’t seem to care as he merely chuckled and plonked himself on the table right beside his brother. “What you reading?”

“The Great Histories and Mythologies of Oceania.” Castiel stated, having recognised the old pages of that book as soon as he noticed Sam reading it. “It’s a good read; Carver does tend to blather on though.” Rather than sitting on the table like Dean, he pulled up a chair.

“Huh.” Dean looked between them for a moment. “Great, I’ve got another bookworm in my life. Just what I wanted.”

Sam on the other hand looked far more enthusiastic. “Is it true you’re descendants of mermaids?”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Sam couldn’t have been much younger than he was, a few years at most and yet he still seemed to retain that childlike wonder and curiosity. “According to the legends ,yes. Though no one has seen a mermaid for thousands of years.”

Sam’s face crinkled in thought for a moment. “Why not?”

“They just vanished one day. Some say it was because they had displeased the Sea Goddess in some way , or that perhaps we had angered her.  No one really knows.”

“It’s all well and good saying you’re descendants from mermaids. But the real question is how would you have sex with a mermaid?”  Dean said, clearly with the intention of grossing his brother out.

“Dean!” Sam reached over and slapped his forearm.

Whilst Dean was bringing up a valid point, it was rather inappropriate.  Not only was he poking fun at his people’s heritage but considering the location and the company he shared, he really shouldn’t have said something like that. Despite all that, Castiel had to make the effort to suppress a smile.

There was an amused snort from the window; Benny must have found Dean’s words amusing.

 Dean smirked at his brother’s reaction before he became somewhat serious again. “So you planning on reading for the rest of the day?”

“ I might do.” Sam said with a level voice ,  as he looked up from the pages.  “Why?”

“Nothing. Me and Cas were planning on going out on a ride later. Figured you might wanna come.”

Sam’s looked at his brother knowingly for a moment and Castiel wondered as to what he was thinking. “No thanks.  Me and Benny are planning doing some training later.”

“We are?” Benny blinked in confusion.

Sam glared back at him.

“Yes your Highness, we are.”

Castiel had no idea as to what that exchange had meant, but from Dean’s pouty expression Castiel assumed that he certainly did. On one hand he looked glad that his brother had refused the offer.  But at the same time he seemed disappointed, as if he didn’t like the idea of being alone with him. Which didn’t make sense to him, because he had been the one to invite him out for a ride in the first place.  If Dean didn’t want to spend time with him, then why was he making the effort to do so? Inlanders were certainly confusing people.

“So Castiel,” Sam looked over at him, an amiable expression on his face, “tell me about this sea serpent. The one that’ll eat everyone at the end of days?”

Castiel was fairly sure that Sam was changing the subject, but he did seem honestly curious. And he couldn’t find it in him to deny him his curiosity. Sam asked plenty of questions and Castiel did his best to respond to them as well as could.  The younger prince seemed mostly interested in cultural and historical aspects of the land. He asked about the holidays they had, about famous past kings and he asked about the palace, who had built it and how long it had stood atop the cliffs.  Even Dean seemed interested in what he had to say, rather than lounging back and looking completely and utterly disinterested he had a thoughtful expression on his face.

* * *

 

“He likes you, you know?” Dean told him as they made their way down the long corridor, on their way to the stables.

By the time they had left the library, the afternoon had come to an end and the sun was just about to start setting.  If Castiel could have chosen how he would have spent his day, he likely wouldn’t have picked to spend it with Dean and his brother. Despite that, he had actually enjoyed his day.  They had spent hours and hours moving from one conversation to the next, laughing and telling each other stories.  Dean took great pleasure in telling him embarrassing stories about Sam, such as the time he had somehow managed to drop his boot down a well and had proceeded to cry about it.  Of course Sam retaliated in kind and had bitingly told him that Dean once ran , terrified for his life because he thought a wolf was chasing him , when in fact had had been a measly mutt.  They tossed banter back and forth and at one point their shenanigans even made the stoic faced Benny laugh.

“Really?” Castiel tilted his head a little.

“Yeah. I mean he didn’t like you at first, but can you blame him?” Dean nudged him gently with his elbow. “After that though, you’re in his good books.”

Castiel recalled the brief conversation they had about Sam out on the balcony, Dean had asked him to be good to his brother and Castiel had given his word that he would.  But that wasn’t why he had made such an attempt to get along with him today, no he had simply done so because he had wanted to.

 “I like him too.”  

Soon enough they had made their way out to the courtyard and through there to the stables. At this time of day, it was a lot cooler outside so Castiel was sure that both Dean and his steed would be comfortable enough to go out for a ride.  The prospect of going for a nice ride along the beach was more than enough to keep him in high spirits and by the time they had actually entered the stables, he had a smile on his face.

Rather than waiting around for the stable hands to saddle the horses, they did it themselves. Castiel had done it more than enough times on his own, so he knew what to do. It was then that Castiel learned that as a rule of thumb, Dean wasn’t so keen on having other people handle his horse. Seeing that he cared for his horse so much and that he had raised her from a foal, it wasn’t that surprising really.

  In no time at all, the horses were saddled, reined and ready to go.  Balthazar (as per usual) kicked up a bit of a fuss at first, but eventually he settled down enough to let Castiel mount him. Castiel did love his horse but he really was stubborn thing sometimes. In fact, he thought that more often than not he chose to be stubborn for the sake of it.

His ass did ache a bit and sitting on a horse didn’t help at all. But if Castiel was anything, he was stubborn. If he wanted to ride his he would, even if it hurt.

As soon as they had left his bedchambers together, they had spent the whole day being tailed by the two guards who had been waiting at the door of his room. Whilst Castiel understood that their safety was important he did think that having armed guards was excessive. There was nothing he could do about it though, so he had simply let it slide.

Nudging Balthazar into a trot, Castiel had led Dean (and the guards who followed on their own horses at a respectful distance) down the rocky path that led to the beach. The palace was a relatively short distance from the beach if you took the direct route, but Castiel had opted to go the more scenic route. This way, Dean would be able to see the nearby town that was only a few minutes’ walk inland and he would be able to take in the view of the looming hills and valleys in the far distance.

For much of the journey to the beach, Castiel focused on the rocking of his horse and the clip clop of his hooves upon stone.  He breathed in the salty sea air and revelled in just how nice and cool it was. Castiel loved the tropical heat, he adored feeling the sun on his skin but at the same time it was just as nice to bask in the cooler temperatures that came around when the sun began to set. 

Finally, the twisting path came to an end and stone turned into sand. Balthazar trotted onto it without any issue; he had been on the beach countless times. But Impala didn’t seem so keen on it.

“Come on Baby.” Dean urged, nudging her with his foot. “It’s just sand. Nice and soft.” He rubbed the length of her neck affectionately and cooed sweet things to her.

The horse refused to move.

“Don’t look at me like that Cas.” Dean pouted. “She hasn’t been on sand before, can you blame her?”

Castiel merely rolled his eyes, despite himself. Dean really did seem to baby his horse a lot more than necessary. Still, it was quite endearing to see.  

In the end, Dean had to resort to dismounting his beast and leading her onto the sand himself. She kicked up a little fuss, but Dean persevered and soon enough the horse was comfortable enough to let him mount her again.

At a relaxed pace, they rode their horses side by side down the long stretch of the beach. The beach was mostly empty, besides from the occasional rabble of local children who were frolicking on the beach. Some were huddled together making sand castles, others were gleefully chasing each other to and fro and the rest were splashing in the waves.  On the lower end of the beach, where the harbour was situated, Castiel could see fishermen and merchants finishing up for the day and wandering back to town.

Conversation between them had been sparing.  Castiel had been happy enough to dwell on his thoughts and from what he could tell, the same applied to Dean. It was only when they been on the beach for about ten minutes, did he break the silence.

“Today’s been good hasn’t it? A lot better than yesterday anyway.”

“It has.”  Castiel wondered if he was going anywhere with this, or if he was simply making small talk.

“We’ll be heading back to Laurence tomorrow.” Dean’s sight was firmly set on him; his expression was soft, sympathetic almost.

Castiel had known that it was coming, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. He had thought that the Inlanders would want at least a few days’ rest. But t _omorrow,_ that was so soon. He had been happy today, as happy as he could be considering the circumstances but those seven words had effectively turned his mood as sour a lemon.

“I see.” Was all he could say.

“Look,” Dean pushed a hand through his hair and let out a forced breath, “I know okay? This is going to be hard for you, I get that. And I know that I won’t be able to understand what you’re going through. But we’re together in this, I swore to God that I’d look after you and I will. You just need to talk to me, to tell me what you need.”

Castiel didn’t say anything.

And that seemed to exasperate Dean.  “You said you don’t want to talk about last night, I get that. We can talk about it when you’re ready. I just don’t want you to suffer in silence, please.”

Castiel looked down at his hands that were tightly gripping Balthazar’s reins. Castiel didn’t know how to not suffer in silence. All his life, he felt as though he was in a crowded room and no matter how much he screamed or yelled for someone to just _listen_ to him, no one did. He had always been expected to just do as he was told and the one time he had said no, his Father had shot him down. He had made him marry the Inlander Prince whether he wanted to or not.

And now, Dean was telling him- asking him to just speak up, to tell him what he actually wanted. He made it sound so easy, like he could just snap off the manacles that had been put on him from the moment of his birth. It didn’t work like that though, things weren’t so simple. Dean just didn’t understand.

“I’ll try.” Castiel murmured, keeping his gaze low.

“That’s all I’m going to ask of you. Okay Cas?” He manoeuvred his horse so that he could rest his hand upon his shoulder.  “We’ll make this work you’ll see.” He offered him his most stunning grin. “Come on , I’ll race you.”

Without any warning, he spurred Impala into a gallop.

Castiel unable to resist despite himself, took off after him, nudging Balthazar into a sprint and tearing up the beach after him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I had a bit of a hard time writing the sex scene , seeing as I'm not into dub!con and shit. But that bit is over , so there. 
> 
> Again , there might be grammar mistakes and stuff , so if you see em' feel free to holla at me.
> 
> All comments and kudoses (?) are appreciated :D


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually, the duo returned from their trip to the beach. Their horse’s coats were mottled with splotches of wet sand their own attire didn’t fare much better. Once Dean lost the race (he swore it was because he had been going on easy on him), they dismounted and fooled around in the water. Castiel felt silly, splashing about in the shallows as if he were a child again.  But it was wholesome and pleasant, the perfect distraction from all of his woes. Castiel couldn’t help but laugh and allow a grin to stretch across his face. Dean looked as though he was enjoying the moment just as much as he was, as he had an equally large grin.

They had only just finished putting their horses away and were walking through the foyer when Naomi found them. Her face was contorted into a distasteful frown and her arms were crossed.

“So this is where you have been Castiel? Fooling around on the beach?” It was clear that she didn’t approve but at the same time she didn’t look angry. Perhaps it was because Dean was standing by his side. 

“I wouldn’t put it like that.” Castiel said, despite the fact he knew it to be true.

“Yes, well however you want to word it, it doesn't matter. Both of your Highnesses have been invited to a family dinner, so I suggest that you perhaps have a bath and get changed into more suitable clothing.” She looked up them up and down, her brow raised.

“Of course.” Castiel agreed. They were a mess after all.

Not a moment later she wandered off, likely in search of a maid she could berate for working too slow.

“What a bitch.” Dean said as soon as she was out of earshot.

“She is usually worse than that. That was her being nice because you were there.”

“Really?” Dean had his eye brows raised in surprise. “And you let her talk to you like that? Damn, if any of the servants had the nerve back home, they’d get taught a thing or two.”

“It’s different with her.” Castiel admitted with a shrug as he led them down the corridor. “She raised us , so I think that entitles her to be strict.”

“She did?”  There was a silent question behind his words, one that Castiel wasn’t willing to speak of.

No one had spoken of his Mother since she had mysteriously disappeared all those years ago, she was a taboo topic in the Kingdom and one would do well to avoid it in front of the royal family. Of course Dean didn’t know that, so Castiel did not take any offence. Instead, he pretended to be ignorant as to what Dean was actually asking him.

“She did.”

Dean was quiet for a moment and Castiel could practically hear the cogs turning in his mind. “Hmm well, she’s still a bitch.”

“That she is.”  A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

* * *

 

At dinner, Castiel watched as Dean poked at the grilled chunks of fish with a look of disgust on his face.

“Can’t wait to eat some proper food.” He muttered lowly so that only Sam and Castiel could hear him speak.

Sam rolled his eyes and proceeded to pry open a clam. “Fish is food Dean.”

“Yeah? Well it tastes gross.” Dean sounded less like a soon to be King than a moody teenager.

Castiel couldn’t agree with Dean there. He rather liked the grilled fish the cooks had served up tonight; it was cooked to perfection and had been marinated in a rich sauce.  He wondered what sorts of foods they had Inland, they had to be dramatically different if Dean refused to eat what they had here.

“It doesn’t. You’re just being fussy **and** rude.”  Sam muttered back, glancing warningly over at the head of the table where their Father was sitting.

Castiel followed his gaze; the two Kings (and Michael) were deep in conversation. Throughout the meal, Castiel had heard snippets of it every now and then. His Father had mentioned taxes of some sort and King John said something about the spoils of war, but other than that Castiel hadn’t been paying much attention to them.

It was true that one day, his husband was going to become King of the Inlander kingdom, and so he knew he should at least attempt to try and pay attention to the politics of the situation. But really, politics had never been his forte. He just didn’t understand it and neither did he want to.

He wasn’t sure if the same applied to the Inlander court, but the large majority of the Lords and Ladies here were power hungry schmoozers whose only aim was to gain prestige and power. Castiel didn’t like those sorts of people, they were dishonest and untrustworthy. They could be smiling at him, laughing at his jokes but in reality for all he knew they could despise him.  He preferred the more honest sort of person, the sort that spoke to you because they enjoyed your company, not because they wanted something from you.   If he were lucky, he would be able to avoid that fuss in the Inlander nation, that he could leave the politics to Dean.

But since when was he ever lucky?

 “Castiel! Castiel!” Anael babbled, snapping him out of musings.

 “Yes?” Castiel turned to look at her, affection warming his blue eyes.

“Before you go, you must see my new dolls. Dean too, if he would like.”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Dean cut in, leaning on the table a little so he could send a charming smile her way.

Her face flushed a red and she ducked he face behind her hands.  Castiel could still hear her muffled giggles though and it made him smile. It was good to see them getting along, even though they would likely not see each other again for a long time. Perhaps she could visit when she was old enough to travel; it would give Castiel something to look forward to as he adjusted to his new life in Inland.

Dean simply laughed and pulled back before he could get caught for acting inappropriately at the dinner table.

Despite the fact that family dinners tended to be rather tedious affairs, Castiel found that he was actually enjoying himself. The food was good and the company he shared was even better. Sure, he hadn’t known Sam or Dean for all that long (only a day or so in fact) but from their brief time together he had decided that he liked them.

However, all was not well as there was one person on their end of the table who appeared to be a in a foul mood, and that was Gabriel.

He sat there with arms crossed and a petulant glower on his face. His food remained untouched and he had even not taken advantage of the plenty of occasions in which he could have teased or poked fun at them. Castiel thought that perhaps Father had scolded him prior to dinner, hence as to why he was making a show of sulking in front of the guests.

Castiel had wondered whether he should try and talk to him, see if he could find out what was wrong, or to try and improve his mood. But the way that his scowl intensified when he even looked his way told him that he shouldn’t bother , that he should just leave him be and let him sort it out for himself.

Other than the brief hiccup of Gabriel’s foul mood, the dinner went over rather well.  Being in Sam’s , Dean’s and his sister’s company was more than enough to keep the shadowy storm clouds in his mind at bay and for the first time in a few days he felt something akin to happiness . If everything stayed like this, then Castiel was sure that he would have been happy with his lot. Being married to Dean wasn’t so bad so far (other than their wedding night but he still wasn’t ready to talk about that yet) but he knew that things would change tomorrow.  He would have to come to terms with the changes in his life whether he wanted them or not. He didn’t know how long it would take for him to adjust or whether he would actually be happy there, but it was a process he had to go through nonetheless.

* * *

 

Sometime later, the meal came to an end and everyone went off to retire for bed. Tomorrow was going to be an early start, so there seemed to be a general consensus that now was a suitable time to retire for bed.

“I’ll catch you up Cas.” Dean said as they walked out of the dining room together.  “I gotta go and talk to Sam for a bit.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Castiel wondered as to what he wished to talk about, but he didn’t ask as it was none of his business. “Of course. Good night Sam.”

“Night Cas.” Sam seemed to have picked up on the nickname as well, not that he minded.

With that, Castiel made his way up to his tower. His room had changed little since he had seen it that morning, a few of the boxes had been moved around and some of them were missing entirely.  He assumed that they had been moved to the courtyard or some other place of storage so they could be added to the Inlander convoy in the morning.

Dean joined him some time later, just as he had said he would. By that point, Castiel had already undressed and gotten into bed. He hadn’t blown the candle  so that Dean didn’t have to stumble around in the dark as he got ready for bed. At that point he wasn’t tired anyway, so he was happy enough to stay up and wait for him.

“Hey.” Dean closed the door behind him and made his way into the room.

Castiel hummed in response, but did not look up from the book he was reading.  He always read before bed and just because he had company didn’t mean he was going to break his routine. He flicked over the page and glanced up to see Dean standing with his back to him. His arms were bent as he untied the knot that kept the cloth hanging around his waist.

Castiel jerked his gaze away, just in time as he heard the cloth rustle to the floor. No, he wasn’t going to get into that. Not here and not now. It was one of those contaminated thoughts that he just couldn’t bear to think about right now. He had so much to go through in his head, so many thoughts and emotions to shift through, so he certainly wasn’t going to make it any more difficult on himself by allowing such dangerous and confusing thoughts to take root in his mind.

 As he stared down at the words on the page, he heard footsteps pit pat against the floor and then the left side of the bed dipped. When Castiel finally risked a quick peek, Dean was sitting up against the headboard, tugging the sheets so it covered his lower half. Not that it mattered much as Castiel could see that he was wearing sleeping shorts. 

“What you reading?” The Inlander leaned over some so he could get a peek.

“A book.” Castiel responded dryly.

There was an amused huff from beside him. “I can see that, what’s it about?”

“Your country.” He took a moment to take note of the page number, then pressed the book closed so Dean could see the cover. “The Inlanders.” It was aptly called.

“Lemme’ guess it was written by a Southerner?”

Castiel had to check. “Yes, why?”

“And everything you know about my country and people is from those books?” He continued a knowing expression on his face.

“Other than my lessons with Naomi, yes.”  Castiel couldn’t see where he was going with this.

Dean didn’t look surprised with his response. “Right , so where am I from?”

“Umm. Lawrence?”  He knew that was the name of the city he was from, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of the name of the kingdom. Everyone just referred to it as Inland, because to those from Oceania, it was literally Inland.

Dean barked out a laugh and pulled the book out of his hands; he was gentle about it and didn’t snatch.  “Forget what Naomi and these books said. It’s probably all bull crap anyway.” He leaned over and dropped it carelessly on the bedside table. “Me and Sam can teach you what you need to know.”

 “Right.”

“Like, for example. I come from the kingdom of Winchester. Lawrence is the capital, where the castle is.”

“Oh.” His brows knitted down,  in that moment he felt as though he was particularly stupid.

Why hadn’t anyone bothered to tell him this before? It felt strange, like someone was deliberately hiding things from him. Why would they do that though? And who would order it? His Father perhaps, he was the one in charge of this all. What would he gain from keeping him ignorant about such things though? If anything, it only made sense to keep him well informed as it would lessen the risk of him saying something that could jeopardise the treaty.  Surely that couldn’t be it , it just didn’t make any sense.

“What else do you know?”  Dean prompted , his voice curious.

“Your nation has a great army, you lead it at your Father’s behest. You and your people worship a deity called God.  Your nation is much larger than my Father’s is, though it isn’t quite as rich.  And um it’s cold.” He listed, summarising pretty much what he had been told and read in several poorly written books.

“Well , you’re not wrong.” Dean leaned forward, puffed up his pillow and then laid back on it.  He had rolled over so he was looking at him, his hands idly smoothed over the velvety surface of the bedding.  “I’ll fill you in on what you need, don’t worry.”

Castiel shuffled so he was lying down on his side as well. There was a large chunk of space between them but still it felt a little weird to be laying that way, looking at him in the candle light. Dean’s expression was soft and the corners of his lips were curved up in a delicate smile. Castiel couldn’t help but again think of how handsome he was. He had thought it when they had first met and he still thought it now. He would even go as far to say that if felt nice being on the receiving end of his smile, he wasn’t quite sure why but it felt good. If he had to compare it something, it felt as though he was basking in the suns warmth. But instead of being warm on the outside, he felt the heat swell and tingle in his chest.

 “I’m not worried about that.” Castiel admitted, forcing himself to look over Dean’s shoulder at the blinds that had been closed for the night.

He was worried about living in a strange country, and not being used to the climate and the people who inhabited it. He was worried about his duties and whether he would actually be able to complete them sufficiently. And he was worried about what he would leave behind and how it would affect him. There was just so much on his mind, so he didn’t have enough room to worry about whether what he knew about the Inlanders , or should be say Winchester’s , was true or not.

That soft, almost affectionate expression on his face faltered for a moment. “I know Cas.”

If Dean thought, hoped that he was going to open up to him tonight then he was mistaken. It was true that they had gotten along well today (at least from what he had been able to tell) but that didn’t mean that they were suddenly best of friends. That he would use Dean’s shoulder to cry on and he would tell him exactly how he was feeling and what thoughts vaulted around in his mind.

They were eventually going to have their talk about last night, but just like he had told Dean this morning , it wasn’t going to happen today.

“We should probably try and go sleep now. Long day tomorrow. Blow out the candle will you?” He nodded at the lone candle that was on the bedside unit on his side.

Castiel sat up and leaned over. And with a puff of air the candle flickered out.

“Good night Dean.” He said to the darkness as he laid back down.

“Night Cas.”

* * *

 

Seeing as they would be leaving for Winchester in the early hours of the morning, the two Princes were awoken before the sun had even risen over the horizon. Without making any efforts to be quiet, a servant let herself in and closed the creaking door behind her.

 “It is time to wake up, your Highnesses.” Hannah, the servant, called out as she set the breakfast tray down on the table.

It took a moment or so for Castiel to realise as to what was going on, but when he did he shoved his face into the pillow as if that could shield him from the world. “No.” His voice was muffled by the pillow.

Hannah, being used to his usual antics in the morning merely sighed. She was one of Castiel’s favourite servants and if he had been more awake, he would have actually been pleased that it was her who was serving them that morning,  after all  this could be the last time he was to see her.

Dean on the other hand, seemed more willing to get up than he was. That wasn’t to say that he eagerly leapt out of bed. He just didn’t make as much as a fuss as he did.

“All right, all right.” He grumbled annoyance in his voice as he moved about on his side of the mattress. A few moments later, his weight lifted off the bed.

Aside from the shuffling and clinking of Hannah setting up the table, Castiel could also hear the ruffling of clothes.

 Last night, he had noticed that the servants had laid out Inlander style clothing for the both of them.  They were of simple design, one being a deep green and the other blue. They were short sleeved, similar to the one that Dean had been wearing upon his arrival to the palace.  However, these tunics lacked all the fancy embellishments, as there was no point in wearing finery whilst traveling on the road.

 “Come on Cas.”  Dean said, the foot of the bed dipped as he sat down upon it.  “If I have to get up now, so do you.”

Dean did have a point there.

Forcing himself, Castiel pushed himself up into a sitting position and blearily looked around the room. Hannah had finished with the table and had moved on to opening the blinds to let some fresh air in.  At the end of the bed, Dean was hunched over as he pulled his boots on.

When he was done, he looked over at him.  His smile was warm and his eyes crinkled at the corners.  “Morning sleepy head.”

Castiel, not being in the mood to handle his joviality, merely huffed and shoved the bedding aside. Thee floor was cool against the soles of his feet and the air had a slight nip to it. It would warm up as soon as the sun had risen though, so he didn’t pay it much heed.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at Castiel’s reaction, as if it was the funniest thing he had seen in a while.

Dean really was rather strange.

Castiel pulled the tunic on and spent a moment examining the material it was made of. It was thicker than what he was used to, coarse and scratchy on his skin. Immediately he decided that he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the leggings much either, they were too tight and restrictive around his legs and more delicate areas. And the boots, well Castiel had a whole list of issues he had with those shoes.

“Loose the tan and you’ll look like an Inlander in no time.” Dean commented from the table, plate full of fruity pastries.

Castiel frowned a little at that, the prospect of losing his heritage wasn’t something he was eager about.  He knew that he would have to move Inland and that he would have to adapt and follow their rules and customs, but at the same time he hoped to be the same person.  Dean had seemed happy enough for him to continue his worship of the Sea Goddess and he – so far- had made no attempts to control his actions or thoughts.  Castiel believed him when he had said that he just wanted him to be happy.

“Is it really as cold as they say?” Castiel asked, sitting down on the opposite chair on the table. It was a blatant attempt at changing the topic, but he’d rather have a conversation with Dean then have to dwell on those toxic thoughts of his.

 “Not all the time. In spring the weather is pretty nice, lots of flowers.  Summer, it’s hot. Not nearly as hot as here though, even on the warmest days. Autumn is where it gets a bit chilly, but it’s not so bad.  Winter though,” he plopped a grape into his mouth and chewed it, “it’s cold as fuck, the snow get as deep as your knees. And sometimes the rivers freeze solid.  We’ll just have to keep you wrapped up in plenty of furs by a fire. My room is pretty warm once you stoke the fire big enough, so if push comes to shove you can stay in there all winter, that’s what Sam does anyway.”

By the bed, Hannah was folding up the bedding and putting it away in a trunk. Once she had finished packing them away, she pushed the trunk to the side and left the room so they could finish off their breakfast in peace.

“What do you do during the winter?” Castiel asked with a curious tilt of his head.

“A bit of this and that.  I’ve got a lot to do actually, Dad’s always dumping duties on my head whenever he feels like I’ve got it too easy.  So I can’t really afford to sit on my ass all day and read books like Sam does.”

That made sense he supposed, just because the weather was cold didn’t mean that life didn’t go on. During the deep summer months here, there were sometimes days in which the weather was so hot it was barely tolerable. People still went about their usual daily lives; they just had to take some precautions. He assumed that the same applied in Winchester but rather than trying to cool down, they tried to heat themselves up.

“You’ll have some duties to take care of.” Dean continued, cheekily leaning over and pinching the last pastry off of Castiel’s plate. “But you won’t be run off your feet or anything like that, like I said you can pretty much do whatever you want. Anyways, eat up. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” There was that reassuring smile of his again, one that rekindled the warm, fuzzy feeling in Castiel’s chest.

* * *

 

Anael flung herself at Castiel as soon as she spotted him standing in the courtyard. “You must write to me Castiel!”

He patted her back, placating her concerns. “Of course I will.” Oh how he would miss her.

“Here.” She reached into the little satchel she was carrying and pulled out a finely made doll. It had curled red hair and blue eyes. “You said you liked this one the best, have it.”

Just like they had promised, they had gone to see Anael and her collection of dolls. Castiel had to admit she had a vast collection, it had even grown since he had seen them last. She even had a replica of the palace tucked away in the corner of the room.

Gingerly, Castiel took the doll. “I will treasure it, thank you sister.” He felt his throat tighten and dry out, like he had just swallowed too much sea water.

She peered up at him with watery eyes.  “I will miss you. Terribly.”

Kneeling so he was on her level, he put the doll to the side for the moment so he could push both of his hands through her hair. He knew this was going to be hard, but he felt as though he had seriously underestimated how much it would hurt. “It’s all right.” He promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We will see each other again, I swear it.”

Next, he turned his attentions to Gabriel, who stood there hands tucked in pockets. Still, he didn’t look happy but his mood was clearly nowhere near as foul as yesterday. “Come here.” He opened his arms in invitation.

Castiel didn’t hesitate to accept.

The hug was short lived and a little awkward but at the same time it was sort of nice.

“Look after yourself Cassie , cause I won’t be there do it for you.” Gabriel said, a slight frown was on his face.

He made it sound as though he constantly watched out for him, which to Castiel’s knowledge wasn’t true. Oh well. “I will.”

Next, was Michael. He also offered his arms out for a hug of his own and as much as the sight repelled him, Castiel had to accept the offer.

There was no warmth or affection in the gesture; Castiel might as well have been hugging a statue. He would have likely been more comfortable if he had.

“Remember, I will write to you.” Michael pulled back and placed his hands upon his shoulders, his expression was firm and resolute as it always was.  “Make us proud brother.”

Last, but not least was his Father. As he had expected his expression was blank, unreadable even. He didn’t look saddened or happy. He just looked as he always did, calm and collected. For a moment Castiel thought that perhaps he wouldn’t say anything that he would simply brush him off and not bother to say goodbye. But he did speak and the words that left his mouth surprised him.

“Look after yourself, my son.” He pressed a firm hand onto his shoulder. “And remember, that even though you live Inland, you will always be a son of mine and you will always be welcome here.”

Castiel could only nod, for he feared that if he spoke his voice would tremble like branches in a storm.

Dean stood a couple of feet behind him with his Father and brother by his side. Respectfully, he had said nothing, he just watched with sad eyes.

“It’s time.” He said as he offered Castiel his hand to take.

Accepting his offer, Castiel threaded their fingers together.  He knew that Dean was just being courteous, that he was playing his role as he should. But at the same time he was grateful for the touch. He found the firmness of his grip grounding and the gentle way in which he swiped his thumb back and forth reassuring.

Wordlessly, Dean led him to the front of the convoy. They passed rows upon rows of carts and wagons that all contained stacks of boxes and trunks. Castiel assumed that the majority of them contained equipment and supplies for the journey.  But he knew that a few of them would also contain his own personal items from his bedroom.  Guards and servants were dotted throughout the long line of the convoy.  Some were on horses, watching them as they passed. And others sat on the fronts or the backs of wagons.

When they got to the front of the line, there were three horses waiting to be mounted. Impala, in her great black glory, an equally large plain black horse and a smaller brown horse with a shaggy mane.  He looked about for a moment, concern making his brows furrow.

Where was his horse, Balthazar?  Oh, of course. He wouldn’t be coming, after all the climate Inland would be far too cold for him to cope. He would be another thing that Castiel would be leaving behind.

Stepping around the various Inlander lords on their steeds, Dean led him to Impala’s side.  The horse snuffed in greeting and pawed at the cobbled stone. With ease, Dean clambered up onto her back and wiggled around a little as he adjusted himself into the saddle. Once he was done, he offered Castiel his hand to help pull him up. The horse was a lot taller than he was used to and she was also a fair deal wider. The saddle was comfortable and there was more than enough room for him to sit comfortably. He would have preferred if he had his own horse to ride, but seeing as there wasn’t a spare Inlander horse for him, he would just have to make do.

Beside them, Sam and the Inlander King mounted their horses as well.

“Farewell your Majesty , your Highnesses.” King John waved, from the front of the convoy.

Castiel’s Father waved back slowly. “Have a safe journey. Send word when you arrive safety.” His voice was loud enough to be heard clearly despite the large distance.

And with all that said and done, the convoy began to move forward and out of the palace courtyard.

Gripping tightly onto the back of Dean’s tunic, Castiel cast one last glance back at the only home he had ever known.  He felt the despair that he had been smothering down for the past day mercilessly rise up like a flash food.

“It’s okay Cas.” Dean assured without turning to look back at him. “It’s okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway , that's the end of the Oceanic section. From here on out it'll be Inlander stuff. Cas is going to be pretty angsty for a while though , so you've been warned.
> 
>  
> 
> Here is my tumblr link if you are interested , or want to keep update on stuff. http://misha-is-da-best.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

 

Castiel had never been on a long journey before, let alone one on horseback.  He had toured his homeland a couple of times with his family, visited the numerous Islands that were dotted around the shore. But it had always been by boat and the distance had always been relatively short, a few hours at most.  The boats themselves were long and wide, had large billowing sails and plentiful deck space. So all in all, traveling in them had always been a comfortable and enjoyable experience.

However, the same couldn’t be said for traveling with the Inlander convoy.

Castiel had never put much thought into how long it would actually take to get to Winchester. He understood the geography of the continent well enough; Oceania was on the Southern coast, whilst Winchester was located in the far North.  But staring at maps and yellow paged books did nothing to prepare him for how staggeringly long the journey would be.

 And so, on the third day (by that point he was already fed up with being on the road) he asked whether they were nearly there yet.

Dean laughed and Castiel felt the vibrations run through his arms. He turned and cast him a look over his shoulder, as if he were checking whether he was serious or not.  “Cas, you know it took us three and a half weeks to get here. We’ve got a while yet.”

Three and a half weeks?

Castiel felt alarm begin to stir within him like the beginnings of a thunderstorm.

 Dean was fooling around with him right? This had to be some odd form of Inlander humour, right?

The look that Sam was sending him way said otherwise though, as he looked anything but amused.  His eyes were narrowed and the corners of his lips were turned down in an angry frown.

“Dean.” Was all he said.                  

“What?” Castiel could feel Dean tense up, defensively. 

Sam nudged his shaggy horse to the side, so that he was closer to them.  “Are you okay Cas?”

“What?” Dean attempted to swivel around in his saddle, only to earn a disproving snort from his steed. “What? Did I say something wrong? Cas?”

 “No, Dean.”  He assured, not wanting to go into the details of it, as usual. “I just didn’t think it would take so long. “

Castiel added that to the growing list of things he should have been told about before he even left his home. Then again, if he had any wits about him he would have asked, he would have made the effort to find out such things. He just had so much on his mind, so many worries to wrangle that he hadn’t enough space in his head to take all the intricacies into account. Even now, after three long days he had made little leeway. It was draining, knowing that no matter how much time and effort he put into trying to straighten his thoughts out, they somehow managed to end up in an even more jumbled mess than they were before.

He just didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what other approach he could take. How was he supposed to get over this? How was he going to adjust to a completely different life? How was he even going to manage when the time came for them to have children? He wasn’t ready for being a Consort to a King in no shape or form.  After living a life relatively free from responsibilities, this change had suddenly slammed down upon him like a massive weight. And no matter how much he struggled to lift it, to carry the burden, he just couldn’t.

“The weather was pretty bad on the way here, so that slowed us down some.  I’m sure, if you want, I can talk to Dad about it. See if we can pick up the pace.”  Dean suggested, and then nodded pointedly at his Father who was leading the convoy.

At his sides were two men, Lords if Castiel had to guess. One was bald and the other had dark hair with a receding hairline.  It took him a moment to realise that they were the two Inlander men who had acted as witnesses to the consummation.  He didn’t even know their names and if he were honest, he didn’t even want to.

After all that had happened, Castiel couldn’t even stand to look at them, so he hastily looked away.

Instead, he looked back at rest of the convoy that stretched back a great distance. It was like a long sea serpent, zigzagging its way through the valley. It was so long that Castiel could only just see the stragglers at the end of the convoy if he squinted really hard.

As much as he would rather just get this journey over and done with as quickly as he could, he knew it wouldn’t be fair for all those who were traveling on foot or on the backs of the wagons.  If he had to take this journey on foot, the last thing he would want to hear was that a pompous and impatient Prince was demanding that they hurry it up.

 Then then there was the fact that he wasn’t fond of the prospect of having to cling on for dear life as Impala galloped along, after all she wasn’t the steadiest of horses he had ridden on. There was no way he was going to say that to Dean’s face though; he knew how much he valued his horse.

 “No thank you.” He concluded, loosening his grip around Dean’s waist and leaning back a little.  “I can wait.”

* * *

 

By the time that dusk fell, camp had already been set up. The servants moved with speed and efficiency as they unloaded the equipment and put up dozens of shelters that were made of thick, bland cloth. Castiel, after a brief investigation, learned that they were actually called tents and that apparently he would be grateful for the shelter they provided when they moved into colder climates.

The tent that he and Dean shared was ridiculously luxurious and large enough to fit at least fifteen people comfortably.  The servants had set up a long table with several chairs, a sofa, a couple of trunks that contained their clothing; a rack stocked full with all sorts of Inlander weapons and a king sized bed.  It was true that he appreciated the comfort that the soft furs and bedding provided when he retired after a long days ride, but was everything else necessary?  The servants were just going to empty it out, pull it down and pack it away when the morning came.  

He had to admit that the tent did serve as a nice place to retreat though, no entered without his permission and someone had even  thought to put out a couple of books for him to read ,if he so desired. He even had a couple of guards posted at the entrance, though he felt as though that was more of a formality than anything else.

As was the routine he had established in those three days of travel, he loitered around until his tent was set up. Castiel had to admit that they didn’t leave him waiting long, ten minutes at most.  It was to the point where he suspected that Dean had asked the servants to set up their tent first and as quickly as they could.

Once the tent was set up, he pulled open the flap and went inside.  Without delay, Castiel hurried straight over to the sofa and let out a sigh of relief as he sunk down upon it.  After sitting in the same position for hours on end, it really did feel good to just sit comfortably. To make his discomfort worse, the pain in his ass had been flaring up. Every time he dismounted in the evening he had to hold back a hiss, it wasn’t so bad that it caused him a great deal of pain. But it was enough to be an annoyance.

Castiel leaned down, tugged the boots off of his feet and neatly placed them to the side. He still couldn’t say that he liked Inlander clothing, but he had to admit that he was glad that he wasn’t wearing just a cloth wrapped around his waist anymore. The weather hadn’t changed dramatically over the past few days and Dean still complained that it was too warm, but Castiel had noticed that as each day passed the weather was slowly getting colder and less tropical.

Inside the tent though, it was more than warm enough for Castiel to feel comfortable, even when he was just wearing his night clothes. So as soon as his boots were out of the way, he (with some difficulty) began to tug off his leggings. They too were tossed to the side and he couldn’t help but let out another pleased sigh. These days, he took pleasure in the simple things, and taking off those nasty leggings was certainly a pleasure in his eyes.

Not a moment later, his tunic came off as well. He didn’t plan on leaving the tent that night, so he saw no reason to remain in his clothes. He might as well change into his night wear, as they were far more comfortable. So that was what he did.

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, things outside had quietened down. The camps inhabitants were beginning to retreat to bed for the night, and so from Castiel’s position upon the great mound of furs and sheets, he was easily able to hear the crunch of multiple boots stepping on dry grass.

He put his book down to the side and strained to listen.

There were three voices outside and they were getting louder, coming closer to the tent. Castiel was only able to recognise two of the three voices.

 “Benny, you go and join Garth outside Sam’s tent.”  Dean instructed.

“Can do boss.” Benny’s gruff voice replied, before his heavy footsteps faded to silence.

“Victor, you can stay here tonight.”

“Sure.”

“Night guys.” Dean bid and not a moment later, the flap of the door was pulled open and he entered.

Castiel knew right away when he spotted him, as his eyes widened for a fraction of a moment before narrowing in something that seemed like annoyance.

Just as Castiel had done when he first got in here earlier, Dean sat down on the sofa and began the process of taking off his boots.

“You didn’t show up for dinner.” To Castiel it sounded more like an accusation than a statement.

About an hour or so ago, a servant had quietly ducked into the tent, she had demurely asked if he would like to join the Inlanders for dinner.

 “I wasn’t hungry.”  He shrugged, looking down at his folded hands on his lap.

“I know, because I told Sue that if you didn’t want to eat with us , she should just bring a tray of food in here. “ He hurled one boot to the side and began with the other one. “Then, she comes and finds me later and says she brought you food, but you refused to eat it.” He looked up then, staring at him from across the tent with angry eyes.

Castiel did not defend himself; he didn’t even look up from his lap.

“This has got to stop Cas.”

“What?” He looked up in surprise.

“This!” Dean motioned vaguely to him and the tent surrounding them.  “You hiding in here as soon as you can. When we’re out riding you just sit there, saying nothing to me or Sam. You refusing to eat a Goddamn thing!”

 Again, when Castiel didn’t respond he continued , his voice was softer this time.  “Even Dad’s picked up on it. Say’s you’re being ridiculous, that you’re sulking like a child. He thinks that you’re being more trouble than you’re worth, that you won’t play your part when the time comes.”

Dean didn’t have to explain what he was insinuating, Castiel could read him loud and clear.

He paled at the thought of being the one to tear the whole treaty down, of being the one to incur King John’s infamous wrath.  Oh Goddess, what if the King decided that he no longer wanted to be an ally to the Oceanic nation? What if he decided that he didn’t want to trade with them, that it would be a lot easier to just steal and pillage? What if he slaughtered thousands, just because Castiel wasn’t playing his part as he should?

Dean’s weight settled on the bed, a couple of inches away from him. Castiel looked up in surprise, having not heard him move.  All that anger, that frustration that had been on his face was gone, as if the slate was wiped clean. Instead, he looked troubled, guilty even. His gaze was intense as he focused down at Castiel’s hands that had at some point begun clutching the sheets.

“Cas.” His voice was soft, as if he was regarding a startled animal. “It’s okay, we can fix this. It’s not a lost cause, I promise you. ”Gently and ever so carefully, he reached out for Castiel’s hand and held it in his own. “We’ve just got to be a more tactical here. I still stand by what I said before, you can have all the time and space you need. But at least in public, you’ve gotta put a game face on. Like the one you had back at the palace.”

Castiel nodded slowly.

Right. He just had to play his part, just like he had before back home. He just had to be polite, to speak when spoken to and have a general air of composure about him.   It would be a lot of effort, having to maintain a façade for such a long time, but if it appeased the King well it was worth the effort.

A smile lit up Dean’s face and Castiel could feel the corner of his lips tugging up a little as well. Dean’s smile was not only beautiful but it also seemed to be contagious.  It was like the sun, invigorating and it made him feel alive, and warm in such an unfamiliar but pleasant way. He couldn’t help but yearn to see it more often, to seek it out.  But that was ridiculous because it was only a smile, even though it was a very beautiful smile. 

Dean noticed Castiel’s pensive expression.  “We’ll get through this, you’ll see. Chin up.” With his other hand, he tapped his chin.

Castiel swatted his hand away with a frown on his face, but that only made Dean laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“All right. I’m done bothering you for the night.” Dean announced, patting his hand before pulling it away and getting to his feet

“Dean, thank you, for everything.” And he truly meant it.

“It’s my pleasure Cas.”

* * *

 

From there on out, Castiel made more of an effort to maintain a suitable disposition in the public eye. By no means was he absolved of all of his troubles, no, they still clung to him like the stubborn vines that covered the palace walls in the wetter months.  It was just that he made the effort to not let them show when he was around other people. He smothered them down and hid them away in the deep recesses of his mind. Their bindings weren’t that strong, but they weren’t supposed to be. It was just a temporary solution to a long time problem.

Every night, after the camp had been set up he would have dinner with Dean and his family.  The spread on offer was rather simple, but it was hearty and filling. There were several different foods that Castiel didn’t recognise, like the odd chunks in the stews that were served or the meats that were wrapped around a bone. When he had inquired as to what they were, Sam or Dean had been happy to explain.

If the King did notice a change in Castiel’s temperament, he didn’t mention it or make any outward acknowledgement to show that he approved or disapproved of this change. Just like before, the King was disinterested in him. He made no attempt to start a conversation and when Castiel did speak over dinner, he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in what he had to say. More often than not, he was more involved in conversations that he had with the two Inlander witnesses. And frankly, Castiel didn’t mind so much, if the King for some reason decided that he did want to talk to him, Castiel was sure he wouldn’t know what to say, so perhaps it was for the best.

Dean on the other hand, was positively ecstatic about the change.  He knew that this was just as a façade, that Castiel was only doing this because he had to, because he had asked him to. But at the same time, that didn’t seem to faze him one bit. When they were out on the roads, following the long winding path that cut through the valley Castiel had been able to see from a distance back at the palace, he was all smiles and witty rejoinders.  He pestered and teased his brother with a familiarity and routine that they must have established years go.  Sam, as always held him own and he too seemed pleased with the progress he assumed that Castiel had made.

When Dean and Castiel settled down for the night in their tent, Castiel changed back to how he was before. He didn’t have to force smiles or laughter. He could be himself, even if the person he was right now was a sullen state of Prince.  Dean didn’t force him to talk; he left him alone as much as he could in the confines of the tent. He gave him the respect and space that he had promised him and for that Castiel was endlessly grateful.

Castiel did indeed want his space, but he did not ignore Dean. He found that even if he had wanted to, he just couldn’t , for one reason or another.

“It’s getting colder.” Castiel said, as he lay on his side of the bed. The candle had been blown out not long ago, so he was sure that Dean was still awake.

There was a rustling of the bedding as Dean turned to look at him, Castiel could barely make out his face in the dark. “Yeah, a little. Its gunna get colder yet though.

Castiel huffed and pulled the bedding up around himself. He wasn’t so cold that he would go as far to say that it was unbearable, but at the same time he wasn’t at all comfortable with the temperature.

“Is it always hot in Oceania?”

“Not always.” Castiel told him. “Like your Kingdom we have hot and cold months, we even have a rainy season.”

“And it’s the hot season now?”

“No, the weather is relatively mild at the moment.”

“Well shit. On the way here, it got so hot I thought I was going to die. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I mean. Good thing you’re used to the rain though, cause it’s been pretty wet In Lawrence for the past few weeks.”

Castiel had seen a few sketches of Lawrence in his history books; they had all been of a vast, looming castle with grey towers and a bustling town that was situated on the castles doorstep. They had just been snippets of a picture , enough to give Castiel a taste of what Lawrence was like but not nearly enough to satisfy his thirst. However, from what Dean had said about his books, he felt as though he shouldn’t rely on them so much to give him an idea of what Winchester was like.  So, just like Dean had told him to do, he asked about it.

“What is Lawrence like?”

Dean hummed in thought; he was thinking about this a fair deal.  “It’s a pretty big city, there’s always a lot going on.  The castle’s up on the top of the hill, but it’s still close to the town, a two minute walk at best.  Then you’ve got the Kingswood to the west and the farmlands to the east. Winchester is mostly woodlands, but we’ve got loads of settlements all over. More than I think Oceania has.”

“I see.” Castiel said, thinking that the books he had read were not entirely wrong, as they had more or less said the same thing Dean had said. They had just waffled on about it a lot, Dean just got straight to the point.

The conversation puttered out after that, like a dying flame that didn’t have enough fuel to sustain itself. And that was alright, after the long days ride Dean seemed pretty tired and Castiel too felt like he could do with a good night’s sleep as well. So with that, he allowed his eyes to flutter closed.

“Good night Dean.”

“Sweet dreams Cas.” The Inlander replied, his voice soft in the darkness.  

* * *

 

Just as Dean had promised, the weather got colder, much, much colder.

Riding on the back of Impala, Castiel tugged his fur cloak tighter around himself in an attempt to stave off the cold. If he had thought that it had been bad before, well he was wrong, that weather had been mild in comparison to this.

 They were three weeks into their journey now and the scenery had dramatically changed around them. In every direction Castiel looked he could see tall deciduous trees, with leaves that were vivid reds, oranges and yellows. Sam had explained that as the weather gets colder, a lot of trees shed their leaves and go into a dormant state until the temperature begins to rise again. Castiel had never thought that he would be able to identify with trees, but he felt as though they had the right way of going about handling the weather.  

 “If I’m right,” Dean said from in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts, “we should pass the border into Winchester today. From there, it should be a two day ride to Lawrence.”

The Inlanders, Sam and Dean included, didn’t seem to mind the change in temperature at all. They changed their attire a little, wore thicker tunics , cloaks  and some even put up their hoods to keep their ears warm, but all in all they seemed perfectly at ease with the climate.

“Will it get any colder?” Castiel asked as he huddled against Dean’s back in an attempt to steal his warmth.

The first time he had done that, Dean had jolted in shock, as if he had been stung by a jellyfish.  Now though, he didn’t seem to think anything of it at all, he actually seemed to welcome the contact and even leaned back a little to meet his touch.

“Probably.” Sam cut in, before his brother could respond. As usual, he had been riding beside them for the day. “At least it will in a few weeks.”

“Wonderful.” Castiel groaned, not bothering to hide his distaste.

“It’s not so bad, right Sammy?  I bet you’ll like the snow. We could show you how to make snow men, even have some snowball fights, just like we used to when we were kids. It’ll be fun.”

“Dean, you’ve got better things to be doing then playing around in the snow.” Sam didn’t seem to be angry despite his scolding words, if anything the younger Prince seemed to be amused and not totally against Dean’s suggestion.

He turned to look at his brother; his brow was raised in challenge. “You can’t tell me what to do, I’m older than you. “

“Well someone has to. “ Sam rolled his eyes, but soon his expression shifted into something serious. “You’re not going to let Dean push you around right, Cas?”

Castiel could feel Dean tense up in front of him, so he adjusted his grip a little to make sure he wasn’t making him uncomfortable.  “I assure you, I’m not going to take any of his” he pulled his hands back so he could make quotation marks with his fingers, “ ‘crap.’ ” He had heard Dean say that a time or two and he felt as though it was an apt word to put to use.

Sam snorted in amusement.

All that stiffness, that tension that had been in Dean’s back drained away as if it hadn’t even been there in the first place.  “I’ll hold you to that, Cas.” He said.

Winding his arms back around the Inlander, Castiel shuffled forward a little bit so he could once more steal his precious warmth.  “Of course.”

* * *

 

By the time the city of Lawrence came into view, it had already been raining for several hours. It wasn’t a little bit of drizzle, it was a full on downpour that made their surroundings seem blurry and grey. The dirt track they had been following for the past few days was waterlogged and slippery, on several occasions he had seen a servant on foot slip over in the mud and be helped up by a guard or another servant.  The journey had been delayed some earlier as a couple of carts had gotten stuck in the sludge and it had taken a good part of an hour to get them out.

They were on the move again though, slowly approaching the vast castle that was perched atop a hill. Castiel wanted to be impressed; he wanted to take in the sights and the smells of this country, of his new home. But he couldn’t, as for one he couldn’t even see it very well. It was just a mass of grey in the distance and what he assumed to the town was just collection of grey blobs and shapes. Just like Dean had said, there was a long, seemingly unending stretch of trees to the west and to the east, if he squinted very hard he could make out the farmers lands.

Because of the heavy rain and the disappointing views, Castiel for the most part just kept his head ducked down. Whilst he was glad for his cloak and the protection from the rain it provided, it wasn’t nearly as warm as his furs had been. He missed the soft, smooth feeling of the fur against his skin. He had found comfort in it and without it, well he felt bare. It was hard to maintain his façade when he was feeling this way, when it seemed as though the Sea Goddess (otherwise known as the Water Goddess as well) herself was crying down upon him, as if she was mourning the loss of one her children.

And so, Castiel didn’t speak. He didn’t try to pretend that he was alright or that he was happy.  He knew he would have to adopt his façade again once more, that as soon as they arrived he would have attention on him. But for now, when everyone seemed more interested in ducking down away from the rain, he thought that he could spare himself this luxury. Tightening his grip of Dean , he pressed his cheek against his back and just listened to the wet slapping noise of Impala’s hooves digging into the mud.

“I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.” Dean said after a long while of silence, as he peered over his shoulder. His short hair was sticking to his face and his cheeks were rosy from the cold.

“Hmm.” Castiel acknowledged, not in the mood to say much else.

A few minutes later (half an hour at most) they rounded the corner and what Castiel had seen as a collection of grey structures, was now in fact a city. Some buildings were old and grey, almost like miniature versions of a castle; others were smaller and made of wood with thatched roofs and little quaint windows.

The streets, rather than being empty with scarce a figure in sight, were bustling and busy.  Rows upon rows of people waited at either sides of the street, watching and waiting eagerly for the royal procession to come into view. There were people of all sorts , peasants , Lords and Ladies , blacksmiths , merchants and guards all braving the weather to catch a look at the new addition to their royal family.

Castiel knew the moment they were spotted as the crowd roared to life, calling and cheering as loud as claps of thunder.  He couldn’t help but shrink back a little, at the sudden noise and the fact that they were suddenly the centre of the attention. Back in Oceania, the general population paid little attention to him, they were polite of course and they seemed happy enough to see him, but he had never had anyone yell or cheer at him before.

A hand settled upon his and gently pried his grip free of the front of Dean’s tunic. He hadn’t realised that he had gripped it tightly in his alarm. Rather than letting it go though, Dean soothingly smoothed his fingers over the back of his hand. Dean’s fingers were calloused against his soft skin, it felt good though.

“It’s okay. They’re just excited is all.  You’ve been a hot topic around here for a few weeks now, they want to see you.” He assured, finally letting go of his hand so that he could wave at the crowd.

Their noise heat a peak and it became quite obvious to Castiel that his husband was very popular with the masses; he would even go as far to say that he saw adoration on their faces as they greeted and called out to the Crown Prince.

Peering to the side, he could see that Sam was also waving and smiling at the people. His long hair was soggy and he had the appearance of a drowned rat, but he looked happy, glad to be home.

And then he looked to the King who was leading the procession, he too was greeting the crowd but he did so in a far more relaxed manner. He was regal, confident and empowered, everything that a King should be.

Feeling as though he was avoiding his duty, he pulled back a little so he could pull down the hood of his cloak so that the masses could see him. The rain was like icy needles upon his skin and his unruly hair was flattened down in not a few seconds. However, when he waved and smiled at the passing crowds he had to admit that he felt a little flutter in his chest when they sung back their praise. These people didn’t even know him, and yet they seemed to adore him just as much as the other members of the royal family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the start of all the Lawrence stuff.


	6. Chapter 6

 “And this will be your room- well our room.” Dean pushed open the heavy wooden door and allowed Castiel to step into the room first.

The chamber was dark and it took Castiel’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the lighting, but when they did he wasn’t overly surprised by what he saw. To put it simply, it was a room well-befitting of a Crown Prince.  It was as long as it was wide, and so was much larger than Castiel’s modest bedroom back home. The furniture that filled it was carved from dark, varnished wood and when Castiel ran his hand across the surface of a cabinet, he learned that it was just as smooth as it looked.  There were also a couple of large wardrobes in the furthest corner of the room, along with some chests, trunks and a cluttered desk in the opposite corner of the room.  

Several feet from that, was a stone fire place. There was not a spot of soot in sight, so it was safe to assume that it hadn’t been used in a while and that the servants of the castle kept everything neat and clean. Next to the fireplace were a couple of benches, though rather than being left bare they were adorned with silk pillows and folded blankets. The King-sized bed was the centerpiece of the room and just like the bed they had slept in at the camps, it was piled high with quilts and furs.  And just like in the tent , there was an array of weapons on display , however in these room most of them were attached on the wall with hooks.

The main thing that caught Castiel’s attention was the colourful tapestry that hung on the wall.

 At first, Castiel had only looked at it in passing; he had simply assumed that it was just there for decoration. But as he wandered closer, he soon realised that he was wrong.  Woven into the fabric, was a mosaic of images, some were small and others large but all were perfectly aligned and expertly sewn. There was an image of a man, intently reading a thick tome as the sky above him was dark and armies massed around him.

Several smaller images later, there was another image, one of the largest on the tapestry. It was of a beautiful woman, fairer than any Castiel had ever seen.  She had long flowing blonde hair and had the kindest smile, the sort that could make even the darkest days seem light. In her arms, she carried a baby, wrapped up in a blanket and to her side was a young boy that couldn’t be older than four years or so.

In the next big scene, Castiel recognised the figure that it focused upon. With his chiselled looks and gruff exterior he had no doubt that it was no other than King John. It was not a happy image though; it was another image of war and bloodshed. He had a look of absolute fury upon his face as he thrust his sword, impaling a man who wore a black crown upon his head. The man was grinning evilly, seemingly uncaring of his own demise, as if he was revelling in the moment.

“It’s beautiful.” Castiel gasped, reaching out and gently touching the fabric. He wondered what all of it meant, was it a story, an old legend perhaps?

“Huh?” Dean sounded confused and from the corner of his eye, Castiel could see that he had been looking through a pile of parchments and letters that were on the desk. “Oh that.” He dropped his letters and came across the room to stand beside him. “It’s the family tapestry. It used to be in Dad’s room, but he did the ‘whole legacy is everything’ speech and made the servants move it in here, so that I ‘won't forget what’s at stake.’ ” Every time he quoted his father he adopted an overly gruff voice and scowled dramatically.

Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little, but a curious thought soon chased that smile away. “What does it mean?”

Dean sighed , it was a tired sound, the sort that told Castiel he didn’t really want to talk about it.  For a moment, Castiel regretted asking him, that perhaps he was prying where he shouldn’t be. But the way he saw it he had every right to ask such things, so he shouldn’t feel apologetic about it.  So he tried again, wanting to know more.

“Dean?”

That seemed to snap Dean out of his pensive thoughts, as he turned to look at him with furrowed brows. “It’s a long story; pretty sure you don't want to hear it.”

“I’ll be the one to decide that.” He pressed. Castiel was stubborn and he was a curious thing, so there was no way he was going to let this go easily.   

 “It’s been a long day Cas. I thought you might want to have bath, I could get one of the servants to fill up the tub-“

He was unsure as to what was going on here and he was even less sure of how to go about this, as he could tell that this stubborn approach of his was not working. Castiel just didn’t understand why Dean was being so stubborn; he had always been amiable, willing to answer Castiel’s questions no matter what they might be. And yet right now, he was being unnecessarily difficult.

“Dean, I do not want a bath. I would like you to tell me about that.” Castiel frowned as he pointed to the tapestry in front of them.

“Cas,” Dean warned, annoyance simmering beneath the surface. “Can we please drop it?”

“But you-“

“ I said no!”

Castiel couldn’t help but flinch away. He stared for a moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Dean had never yelled at him before, ever.  “Yes.” he said robotically, his expression turning grim. “I think I will take that bath your Highness.”

 “Okay.” Dean said slowly.  “I'll uh- I'll get someone to bring a bath in. Benny and Victor will be waiting outside if you need anything.”

And with that, Dean ducked out of the room with haste.

* * *

 

Castiel couldn’t deny that he had needed this, the warm soapy water of the bath was soothing and it chased away all the lingering aches and pains he felt from the days ride.  But no matter how much he just wanted to lay back and relax, he just couldn’t.  There was too much weighing on his mind, the disagreement he had just had with Dean, the fact that he was finally here in Lawrence and that soon he would be expected to take up his duties as husband to a future King. He had thought that Dean would always be a helping hand to guide him and offer him assistance whenever he needed it , and yet now it was apparent that perhaps that wouldn’t be the case.

Had his question touched a nerve? Had Castiel been prying in something deep and personal, a topic that Dean wouldn’t want to touch with a ten foot bargepole?  The more he thought about it, the more likely that option seemed. In hindsight, Dean had seemed weary when he had brought it up, there had been an air of reluctance about him and he had been clearly doing his best to try and change the subject. Perhaps rather foolishly, Castiel had decided to ignore his warnings and had pressed on and so he had forced Dean’s hand, he had made him react in that way.

With a sigh, Castiel further submerged himself into the bubbly water and braced his arms on the sides of the tub so he didn’t sink down completely.  The servants, before they had left, had poured in some flowery smelling liquid that had caused bubbles to foam in the water.  He wasn’t quite sure what its purpose was, but it smelled nice he hadn’t complained.

Castiel was going to have to apologise wasn’t he?  He knew he couldn’t leave things as they were, Dean was one of the few allies he had in this Kingdom so if he wanted to get by here he was going to have to stay in his favour. Even though Castiel didn’t think he had done anything wrong, he was still going to have to stomp on his own pride and apologise to him.

Fine , so be it.

Finishing off in the bath, Castiel then clambered out onto the matt that had been laid down. Once his bath had been brought in, the servants had offered to stay to assist him with bathing and drying up however, he had insisted that he was more than capable of doing that himself and had politely requested they take their leave. Before they had left though, they had laid out some towels for him to use and some fresh, dry clothes for him to put on.

These clothes were in the typical Inlander style, they were made of thick, heavy fabrics, were somewhat tight fitting and they didn’t leave much skin on show. He was thankful for that as even though he had just gotten out of a nice steaming bath, the chill in the air was already beginning to incessantly nip at his skin.  So as quickly as he could, he patted himself dry and got dressed.

By the time that he opened the heavy wooden door, he was dressed and wrapped up in a cloak that one of the servants had left behind. They had rightly assumed that even with his clothes on he would still too cold for comfort.

“Your Highness?” Benny asked, straightening his posture as he had been lazily leaning against the wall.

“Do you know where Dean has gone?  I would like to speak with him.” At this point, Castiel wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to freely roam the castle, so he thought it best to ask. And say, even if he was he didn’t know his way around the castle well enough to even have a hope of finding him.

The two guards exchanged a look before speaking.

“He didn’t say where he was going, your Highness.” Victor said respectfully. “But if you would like, we could send someone to look for him. “

Castiel pursed his lips in thought.  “That would be helpful, thank you.”

With that, Castiel closed the door behind him and retreated back into the room.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, whoever the guards had sent to look for Dean had been unable to find him. Castiel had a suspicion that they didn’t even bother to send anyone to look for him because they knew full well where he was and they just didn’t want to tell him. Perhaps Dean had told them not to, because he wanted his privacy. If that was the case Castiel would have respected his choice, after all he had needed a fair amount of privacy as of late. But still, why hadn’t they just told him? Why had they lied?

It was all rather baffling and no matter how much he dwelled on it, Castiel could not wrap his head around it.

Dean was not in the dining hall at dinner either.  Benny had asked if he would like to take dinner in his room or in the hall and he had chosen the latter as he promised Dean that he would make more of an effort.  Not that it mattered all that much anyway, as upon arrival neither the King nor Dean were present. Sam however, was.

“Cas!” He called, smiling widely as he waved him over.

The dining hall was a large room, with a tall ceiling and filled with several very long dining tables with benches that were pushed underneath them. Sam was sitting alone at the royal table and had a plate of food to one side and a book on the other.  Behind him stood a guard, Castiel couldn’t think of his name but he did recognise him as one of the guards who had joined the Inlanders to Oceania.  The guard looked bored, but perked up when he noticed that Castiel was being closely followed by Benny and Victor.

“Hello Sam.” Castiel greeted once he had walked up the few steps that were before the royal banquet table. “May I join you?”

“Sure.” He said, gesturing to the chair right beside him.

Castiel went and sat in the chair and pulled it in so it was closer to the table. “Is it always this quiet?”

“No, it’s just that we've been away for a while, so most of the Lords and Ladies have returned back to their manors. They’ll be back in a few days’ time, so make the most of it.”

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement, Sam also seemed to appreciate the peace and quiet.  “Have you seen your brother?” 

“Dean?  I thought he was with you.”

“He was , but we,” he hesitated  , trying to find a suitable word that wouldn’t make it sound worse than it was , “had a slight disagreement about something and he left.”

“A slight disagreement?” Sam raised his brows suspiciously. “About what?”

Castiel’s eyes flickered to Benny and Victor, who were both leaning against the far wall. “I asked about the tapestry in his bedroom.”

“Oh that.” Realisation swept into his features and he reached for his fork and stabbed at some meat before popping it in his mouth and chewing. “He hates that thing.”

Well, that wasn’t that surprising, but Castiel wanted to know why, so he pressed on. “Can I ask why?”

Sam was quiet and for a moment, he wondered whether he was going to refuse to talk about it as well.

“It tells the story of our family history. How we came to be, how we became royalty,” he paused for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to continue, “how Mum died, and the war that followed that.”

Castiel’s eyes flickered down to the table as a wave of guilt hit him.

 That was why Dean had been so adamant that he didn’t want to talk about it. And yet, he had kept pushing the issue, trying to force Dean to tell him. He felt disgusting, disrespectful and cruel.  There were no words to describe how it felt to lose a Mother, it was every child’s worst nightmare realised. Castiel knew himself how lost and alone and it made you feel , how it felt as though someone had torn out a part of him , tossed it away and left him gaping and bleeding.

It was truly and utterly awful and he would have never wished that fate upon anyone, even his worst enemy.

“I am so sorry Sam.” He murmured, not being able to look up and meet him in the eye.

“No, it’s okay Cas. You didn’t know.  He’s not angry at you, he just needs some time to be alone. He does this sometimes.  Doesn’t he Benny?” He turned to look at said guard.

Benny, who had been talking quietly with the other two guards, nodded. “He does.  Give him a few hours, he’ll be fine.”

“See? Don’t look so worried, it’s not your fault. Come on, what do you want to eat , you can have anything you like.”

* * *

Castiel had spent the rest of the evening in Sam’s company. They had eaten dinner together (not that he had eaten much as he wasn’t fond of Inlander food) and then Sam had proceeded to give him a tour around the castle.  He had shown him “all the important places” , such as the library , his bedroom , the kitchens , the main hall and other such trivial places. He had also told him about places that “it would be best if you didn’t go”, such as the Kings wing (apparently he didn’t like uninvited guests, his sons included) and the dungeons. After that they had stayed in Sam’s room for a while, just talking about this and that.

Eventually, it was time to retire to bed.  And so, after asking Benny and Victor not to show him the way as he wanted to figure it out for himself, he began to make his way back to Dean’s chambers. It took a couple of attempts to find the right corridor, because all of the corridors looked the same, but soon enough he found it.

“Thank you for your assistance today, Benny, Victor.” Castiel said just before he pushed the door open.

“It’s our pleasure, your highness. Have a good night.” Victor nodded politely, before moving into his designated guard position by the door.

With that, Castiel pushed open the door and was greeted with a pleasant orange glow of the lit fire place. The room felt a lot warmer than it had before and Castiel was delighted at the prospect of actually feeling nice and warm. So he closed the door behind him, hurried over to the benches and sat down in front of the fire. The tub was no longer in the room, but he did spot a couple of crates and trunks that he hadn’t seen in here earlier. He assumed that they were some of his personal items that had been brought along with the convoy.

Shrugging off his cloak and neatly folding it up, he put it to the side. Just like Dean had said, once a fire was going this room was actually rather warm. Over the crackling of the fire, he could still hear the hiss of the rain outside, it was still raining from earlier and from what Castiel could tell it wasn’t going to let up any time soon. The shutters were closed though, so the outside cold and rain wasn’t getting in.

Thinking of Dean though, Castiel returned his attention back to his husband. Even now it still felt rather strange to refer to him as such, as he didn’t exactly act like a husband, or at least Castiel’s preconceptions of one. If anything, he would say that they had a friendship of sorts, or at least the beginnings of one. Before this whole disagreement, they had been getting along really well, getting to know each other and just generally getting used to being in each other’s company.

But now, everything was jeopardy, all those hours spent with him could have easily gone to waste if he didn’t fix this.

Dragging his hands down his face, he blinked with tired eyes.  He could have easily avoided this mess if he had bothered to just pay attention and see just how much that topic of conversation was bothering him.

Castiel was such a fool and he deserved whatever consequences might come his way.

Murmured voices yanked him out of his troubled musings and he looked away from the dancing and shifting flames to stare at the heavy wooden door. It creaked open and in stepped Dean. His posture was tense, shoulders hunched and he had an unhappy turn of his lips. In the dim light of the fire, green eyes met blue. Before Dean could avert his gaze, Castiel rushed out his words.

 “I am so sorry Dean.” He just wanted to get this out of the way and for things to be simple and easy between them again.

Surprise flickered onto Dean’s face. “What for?” He closed the door and the pulled the bolt across, locking it behind him.

“For what I said earlier, I shouldn’t have pried so much in your personal business.”

 “Don't worry about that.” He said as he came to sit right next to him on the bench.

“But I-“Castiel’s protests were cut off.

“Seriously Cas, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” He assured. “Hell, I should be the one apologising, just cause I'm tired doesn't mean that I can get away with being a dick and yelling at you.”

Castiel knew there was a reason behind his outburst, but seeing as they were just in the process of making amends he didn’t think it would be wise to bring it up. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Yes I do. Come on , lemme make it up to you. I'll be extra nice, I promise.” He nudged him gently with his elbow.

Castiel rolled his eyes at that. “You’re always nice to me.”

Dean grinned and there was mirth in his eyes.  “I'll be even nicer then.”

* * *

Ever since Castiel had started sharing a bed with the Inlander, he had trouble sleeping.  It wasn’t that Dean was unpleasant to sleep with, he never tried anything and he never strayed from his own side of the bed. It was just that Castiel always found it so hard to fall asleep in the first place, it would take hours of tossing and turning, willing himself to just fall asleep. And when he eventually did, out of sheer exhaustion, it would be so restless and uneasy that he felt as though he would have been better off if he didn’t sleep at all.

So, he could be excused that by the time that he eventually came around in the morning, he wasn’t at his sharpest. In fact, it took him several moments of staring at the empty spot in the bed beside him to register that he was alone in the bed.  Sluggishly, he reached out and patted the spot where he had been laying last night. It was cold.

Oh , so Dean had been gone for a while at least.  He wasn’t an early riser though, that was something he had come to learn from sharing a bed with him for weeks on end. Neither of them had been keen to get up in the morning, they had both groaned and hid their faces beneath the quilts whenever a servant had ducked in and requested that it was time for them to get up.

Huffing, he rolled over and tugged the bedding tighter around himself, as he was unwilling to even think about getting up yet. Surprisingly, he wasn’t cold this morning.  Some mornings, when they had been traveling with the convoy he would wake up with a horrible tingling on his skin, as if someone was stabbing him with hundreds of cold needles over and over again.

But no, he felt warm, comfortably warm even.  It was only when he heard the familiar crackle and pop of a fire that he realised that was why he felt so snug and cosy. Not only was he wrapped up in a swathe of furs and blankets but the fire was radiating its blessed heat.

It was lovely, and Castiel couldn’t help but hum in content as he nuzzled his face into his pillow.

Not a few moments later, when Castiel had been happily dozing the morning away, the door creaked open and the sound of footsteps could be heard on the old stone floor. He could hear the voices of three different people, two female and one male. They all spoke quietly, conscious of the fact that he had not yet risen out of bed.

“Put those on the table please , over there.” The male voice requested.

“Of course, your Highness.”

To his right, on the other side of the room, he could hear the quiet clinking and rustling as the people moved about.

“Is that everything , your Highness?”

“Yes, thank you. You may leave now.”

And with that, two of sets of footsteps could be heard retreating from the room. The door creaked open and clacked shut not a moment later.  The room was quiet then and all Castiel could hear was his own steady breaths, the occasional hiss of the fire and the pleasant birdsong from outside.

Footsteps could be heard again, and not a moment later the bed to his side dipped.

“Hey Cas? Do you wanna get up now? I have breakfast.” Dean’s voice was soft, coaxing.

Pushing his face deeper into the safety of his pillow, he grunted out a response. “No.”  His stomach however, seemed to have other ideas as it grumbled loudly, loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean chuckled. “You sure? I bought you some fruit.”

“Fruit?” He mumbled, rolling over so he could see the man sitting on his bed.  “What kinds?” He couldn’t help but be hopeful that they were from his homeland; after all he couldn’t stand the food here.

He smiled, glad that he had caught his attention. “Apples mostly, but I managed to get you some blackberries and pears.”

Castiel’s interest faltered. He should have realised really, they had eaten all of the Oceanic food early on in the journey as it didn’t keep very long.  “Oh.”  

“I can get you other fruits too if you want, I mean we’ll have to get them imported so that might take a while. But if that’s what you want, I’m sure I could ask Dad.” Dean hurried, noticing his lack of enthusiasm.

“No,” Castiel said, not wanting to be a bother, “this is quite alright.” He pushed himself up, so he was sitting in bed. He yawned loudly, and stretched his arms up till he heard his joints pop. “So these fruits…”

“Oh yeah.” He hopped off the bed and got the tray that the servants had put down on the table, he then sat right back where he was before and carefully balanced the tray on Castiel’s lap. “Right, so those are your fruits. That’s your tea , drink it whilst it’s warm. And that’s honey, you should eat it with the bread. “He pointed out to everything each in turn.

Castiel took a moment to look at his small, but ample meal. It was certainly better than the gruelish porridge they had been serving for breakfast at the camp.  “Thank you, this looks lovely.”

Dean watched on as he plopped a berry into his mouth and chewed.  “Figured you could have a nice breakfast after yesterday. I tried waking you up earlier, but you were having none of it, you told me to piss off actually.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“ I did?” Castiel blinked, near dropping his slice of honey covered bread.

“Yeah, you whacked me and everything.”

“ Sorry-“

“Don't sweat it Cas, you were tired. ”

It was a little unnerving that he couldn’t even remember this, but if Dean insisted that it was alright, well he wasn’t going to press the issue.  He took a bite of the honeyed bread and he had to admit that it was delicious. The honey was rich, sweet and perhaps a little bit too sticky, and the bread was soft and warm as if it had just been brought out of the oven.

“Mmm.” He hummed, mouth full. “This is delicious.”

“Yeah?” Dean was smiling again, clearly pleased with his choice of food. “Well, eat up." 

* * *

 

Castiel did indeed eat up, though that was only because Dean was eagerly watching him take in every mouthful. By the time he was done he felt a little bloated, having eaten a lot more than he usually would have. But Dean looked happy, so he supposed that it was worth the discomfort in the end.

Once he had finished his breakfast, Dean had left the room to allow him to get dressed and to tend to his bodily functions. As he got dressed in his Inlander clothes, he wondered as to what was in store that day. Dean hadn’t mentioned anything of import, so he didn’t think that today was going to be anything all that taxing, which of course he was grateful for.

Soon enough, he was finished getting dressed so he opened up the bedroom door and was greeted with the sight of Dean talking to his guards.

“You all done?” He asked, turning away from Benny to look at him so he could look him up and down.

Strangely, Castiel didn’t squirm beneath the gaze as he usually would have; he just took it in his stride. “I am.”

“Are you going to be warm enough in just that?” He gestured to his lack of cloak. “I thought I could show you the gardens today, if you would like. Then I could show you the chapel they’re building for you, it’s round back, near the woods so it isn’t too far.”

He remembered Dean promising that he would erect a temple in reverence to the Sea Goddess, but he hadn’t thought that he would treat it as such a priority. He had simply assumed that it would be something that would eventually be done, later rather than sooner.

He went back inside the chamber, grabbed his cloak from the bench and hurriedly put it on. “I would like that.” He smiled, as soon as he was by the doorway again.

“It’s a date then.”  Dean grinned back, offering his arm out so that Castiel could rest his own upon it, just like how they had done when they had taken their first walk together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sloooowly introducing plot points. I told you it would be a slow burn.
> 
> P.s , I cannot end chapters well , at all , so excuse the lame ending.
> 
> Shit should be picking up soon , but I always say that don't I?


	7. Chapter 7

The gardens were, to put it frankly a complete and utter mess.

The muddy path that weaved through the overgrown grass was uneven and so water-logged that on several occasions they had to they had to detach from each other so that they could step around the largest of puddles.  However, as soon as they were clear Dean would offer his arm back out with a charming smile and of course Castiel accepted that offer time and time again. Benny and Victor, who were quietly tailing them had no such qualms about the condition of their boots and simply walked right through them. 

There was no order or organisation to the plants and trees that crowded the pathway, some were messy and overgrown things that were in dire need of a trim, whilst others were wilted, sad looking plants

“Dad fired the gardeners years ago. There was no point in wasting money on it if no one ever came here.” Dean explained, when he noticed Castiel’s curious gaze.

Castiel wanted to ask why, but he thought better of it as he had a feeling that this would be another subject that Dean wouldn’t want to talk about.

“You know,” He continued, looking at him sideways as they walked together, “if you want to have it tidied up though you can. You could do whatever you wanted with it, I don’t think anyone would mind.”

Whilst the Inlanders thought that a garden was a trivial waste of space, Castiel did not. In his eyes, they had so much potential; they could be a place of peace, somewhere for him to retreat to so he didn’t feel as though he was a bird cooped up in a stone cage. It was such a shame that it had been abandoned and forgotten, that it had been allowed to fall into such a state of disarray.  This garden needed nurturing, for someone to put time and effort into it to make it presentable again, to make it worthwhile.  And Castiel was more than willing to do that. This garden would give him an outlet; it presented him with a challenge and something to look forward.

“I would love that.” Castiel told him, offering him a genuine, soft smile.

“Yeah?” Dean grinned, clearly proud of his idea. “You’ll have to wait till spring, cause there’s no point in starting now. But it’s something for you to look forward to.”

They then came to the end of the muddy path, so as Dean had promised they moved onto the chapel, which in its current state there wasn’t all that much to look at. It was just a collection of various building materials and tools all stacked up and ready to be put into use.  There were a few construction workers going about their business, some were measuring out distances with lengths of string, whilst others were poring over a parchment rolled out over a table. When the workers noticed they had company, they all stopped and greeted them with their respective titles.

Dean nodded at them, his way of giving them the all clear to continue working. He then turned to Castiel again. “It’s much to look at yet,” Dean said “but as soon as the ground dries up enough they’ll start work on it. We hired the best workers, so it’ll get done in no time and it’ll look awesome.”

“Everything has already been arranged?” Castiel asked with a slight tilt of his head. They had only been in Lawrence for a few days, so he was impressed that everything was coming along so quickly.

“More or less.  When you told me that you wanted a chapel, I told Dad, he sent word back to home what he wanted done, and they started arranging stuff right away.”

“Oh.” Castiel blinked, feeling a little stupid.

Dean didn’t seem to notice though. “Yep. Do you wanna see what it’ll look like?”

Castiel nodded.

Waving over a worker, Dean was handed the parchment, he unrolled it with both of his hands and showed it to him. “It’s not set in stone yet so if there is anything you want to change, feel free.”

On the page were several sketches of the building design, the chapels design seemed to be based off of Oceanic architecture. There were tall pillars guarding each side of the entrance way and much like the chapel back in the palace, the room was longer than it was wide. In the interior design, there was an altar at the end of the room, along with a stone fountain. As Castiel looked over the drawings, he noticed that there were some features that seemed out of place.  Features that were more of an Inlander design than Oceanic, like the grey stones that it was going to be built with or the steepled roof.

Dean must have noticed his frown, as his expression had shifted. He looked hesitant, as if he had just realised he had made a mistake. “I thought it’d be cool if it was a like a combination of our cultures.” He shrugged.  “If you don’t like it I could-“

“No I do.” Castiel assured him, stopping his worries in their tracks. “I was just curious. It is a good idea, very symbolic.”

Dean chuckled and handed the paper back to a worker. “Ah good, cause I wasn’t sure whether I was being rude or what.”

“It doesn’t matter where you pray, the Goddess of the sea will always hear your prayers. Thank you this Dean, praying in a chapel is much preferable than a storage room.” It was true that they had tided out the room and made it presentable, but still it was a storage room nonetheless.

“No problem, you kept your word so it’s only fair that I keep mine.” Dean was quiet for a moment, and when Castiel turned to see what he was doing, he noticed that he was watching him, studying him as he often did. “You look cold, come on let’s get you by a fire.” He offered his arm out again.

Till that point, Castiel hadn’t even put much thought into how warm or cold he was. Dean had a strange way of distracting him, of making everything else seem dull in comparison to his sheer brilliance.  

With a nod and a smile, he accepted Dean’s offer and they both headed back through the garden with Benny and Victor still silently following behind them.

* * *

 

The days that followed were uneventful at best and for the most part Castiel was left to his own devices.  At first, he stayed within the castle walls but as the days passed he grew discontent with the confinement, at staring at books and chess boards. And so he adopted a different approach of entertaining himself (with his husbands permission of course), he took to exploring outside of the castle. With Benny and Victor as his guides, he ventured out into the city that sat at the bottom of the hill.

It was a bustling metropolis, and no matter in what direction Castiel turned, there was always something new to see and smell. When he looked to his left he saw a garrison of well-armed guards making their routine tour of the city streets and when he took in a deep breath of the cold air there was the scent of freshly baked bread wafting on the breeze. According to Benny, it was market day, which explained as to why the city centre was heaving with eager customers trying to get a good deal and vendors selling their merchandise.

With his sun tanned skin, expensive clothing and two guards beside him, there was no chance of Castiel blending in with the general populace. He knew that he was an outsider and that prior to his arrival in Winchester they had likely never seen someone from Oceania before, but that didn’t mean he liked the way that some people looked at him. They stared and pointed as he passed, with mouths agape. It made his skin itch, as if he could feel the raking touch of their gaze scratching at him. So he quickly hurried past these people, doing his best to ignore them and to reassure himself that they meant no harm, that they were simply curious and that soon enough they would be used to seeing him out and about.

Luckily, most people were far more amiable. They waved at him, called out greetings to him and bowed as he passed. He had never received such a treatment back home and whilst it was something new and strange, he had to admit that it was pleasant to know that even though these people knew very little about him, they were still willing to give him a chance and treat him with respect. So Castiel responded with the same kindness they showed him, he smiled as he passed, bid them a good day and even stopped to chat with them for a moment if they initiated a conversation with him.

With the gold coins that Dean had given him the night before, he bought some goods from various stores and stalls. Dean had told him to get himself something nice, whatever he wanted as long as it wasn’t ridiculously expensive. Apparently it wasn’t because money was an issue, but more so because vendors would try to extort him because they would assume he was an ‘ignorant foreigner.’

“Some people are closed minded like that,” Dean had said the night before. “Don’t pay any attention to them and if they give you any trouble, Benny and Victor will take care of it.”

Castiel didn’t know what he had meant by ‘taking care of it’ and fortunately he didn’t find out.

He returned to the castle later that day with a couple of warm cloaks, some tailored clothing (which was made of a gentler material that was more agreeable with his skin) and a new pair of boots.  When Dean had told him to buy himself something nice, he assumed that he was referring to some sort gift, like some jewellery or maybe even some books. But Castiel had never been materialistic and there were already plenty of books for him in the library so why would he want to get more? The way he saw it, it was better if he bought something practical, something that he would benefit from.

* * *

 

Later that evening, after Dean had finished attending to his duties for the day, they had dinner together in his chamber. The meal consisted of the usual Winchester spread, roasted meats, vegetables and a stew on the side. Dean had a hearty appetite and as always, he stuffed his face with meat and generally ignored the rest of the food. Castiel on the other hand didn’t have such an enthusiasm; he found that the food just didn’t agree with him. He to appease the gnawing hunger in his belly but by no means was he eating as much as he used to back home.

“Would you like to see what I bought today?” Castiel asked, before taking a sip of the ale that was served with the food.

Dean, who was sitting opposite of him at the table (that the servants had only recently brought in) nodded in response.

Castiel reached under the bench and picked up the parcels his clothes had been put in.  He placed them on the table and tore the wrappings open so Dean could see what was inside.  “It’s mostly clothes.” He explained. “I got a couple of cloaks and some boots too as well.”

The Inlander frowned. “What’s wrong with the stuff I bought you?” He garbled, his mouth full of meat.

“I don’t like the material they are made from. So I bought some made from cotton, its much softer, see?” He took out one of the undershirts and held it forward so Dean could touch it.

After wiping off his hands on a wet cloth, he touched it.  His fingers slowly dragged along the material and he had a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s nice.”

Castiel pulled his hand back before Dean’s fingers could bump into his own.  

Dean stared for a moment and then pulled his hand back as well. “Can I see the boots?”

It was obvious that he didn’t have an interest in his fashion choices, in fact Dean didn’t even seem to think about what his own choice in clothing either really. In the mornings he just put on whatever was left out for him by the servants, so Castiel knew that Dean was changing the subject.

“Of course.” He folded the tunic and placed it back into the parcel. He then got one of the pairs of boots he had bought and put them on the table.  “What do you think?”

“They’re the same as the others you have.”

“No, they lace up differently and are tighter around the calves.” Castiel insisted.

“Hmm.” Dean didn’t seem convinced. “As long as you like them that’s what matters.” Picking up his meat on the bone, he began to eat again.

Soon enough, Dean had finished eating his fill and Castiel had pushed the food around on his plate enough to make it seem as though he had too. The servants hurried in and cleared away the plates and left overs as they moved from the table to one of the benches by the crackling fire.

Dean slumped down and hooked his arms around the back of the bench; he spread his legs out in the space between the two benches.  He looked positively uncouth and yet Castiel found it somewhat endearing. It was true that he was a Prince and that he could play the part of one when need be, but whenever he was around Sam or Castiel he clearly made no efforts to act properly. And so he was rather used to the Inlander sitting and eating like a slob.

“You look tired.” Castiel noted, watching him closely. “Did you have a long day?”

“You can say that again.” Dean huffed, turning his head to look at him.  “I already had two meetings before you were even awake.”

He was pretty sure that was an exaggeration as he didn’t get up that late today, but he knew that there was some truth to his words as his side of the bed was cold when he had checked it.

“What were the meetings about?” He knew it wasn’t his place to ask, but that had never stopped him from asking such things before.

“Political stuff mostly.  I had to go see the treasurer to look over the accounts.  Then I had to check the stores to see how much of a dent the journeys made in our winter supplies. And then I had to start writing a damn letter to your Dad,” he paused for a moment, checking if he had offended him. “No offence.”

 “None taken.”

His words had reminded Castiel, for all the days he had spent in Winchester he hadn’t even thought to write a letter home yet. Perhaps it was because he was doing best not to think of such things, or that he had been distracted with more immediate affairs. But still, whether he wanted to think about home and his family or not, it didn’t matter. Michael had made it very clear that he wanted him to write, for him to tell him everything that was going on here. And with him with him being the heir to the Oceanic throne Castiel knew it would be wise to just do as he was told.

“If it’s any consolation, I have to write a letter to my brother.”  Castiel told him, frowning at the mere thought.

“Michael?” Dean’s face crinkled in distaste. “God I hate that creepy dick. I don’t know how you put up with him for all those years.”

“I did my best to avoid him, and if he wanted something I just did as I was told.” That was the story of his life really.

Pulling his arm down from the back of the bench, he turned so that he was giving him his full and undivided attention. “You don’t have to do what he says anymore Cas.”

Oh how little did Dean understand his brother. He didn’t know what he was like; he didn’t know how deep he had sunk his claws in him. Just because he wasn’t the one to arrange this marriage didn’t mean that he wouldn’t use it to his advantage. Whether they were family or not didn’t matter to him, it never had. Castiel was simply an asset, one that he would take advantage of if the occasion demanded it.

“I know.” Castiel lied, not wanting to try and explain how things really were. Perhaps he would explain one day, he would need to know. But for now it could wait.

Dean’s hand landed on his knee and he patted it a couple of times in an affectionate gesture. “Good.” He said, not removing his hand.

The hand on his knee was a warm and a pleasant weight, the sort of touch that he was quickly becoming familiar with.  He liked it and yet, he felt as though he shouldn’t. So he shifted his legs, moving his knee just so that Dean’s hand slipped off.

Their eyes met, Castiel was checking to see what Dean made of that and it appeared as though he was doing the same. It was hard to see in the orange glow of the fire, but for a moment Castiel wondered if that was a blush colouring his freckles cheeks. It couldn’t be, this was Dean he was thinking about here.

Clearing his throat, Dean moved back so that his arms were hooked back around the back of the bench again. It was a reassured position, assured and relaxed.

For a long while they sat on the bench together, talking mostly about this and that until the fire began to die out. After tossing a few more logs into the pit, Dean decided it was time to retire to bed as he had another early morning ahead of him. Rather than staying up and reading, as he usually did Castiel decided to follow suit. Walking around the city hadn’t been strenuous but at the same time, he thought it would be good to get an early night.

“Night Cas.” Dean bid, watching him from his side of the bed as his fingers twisted in the bed sheets.

“Good night Dean.” His smile was soft, genuine as he pulled up the bedding up around him.

In the dim light of the fire, he allowed his eyes to slip closed as the haziness of sleep surrounded him like a shroud. Even then, as his senses became dim he felt the weight of an affectionate gaze upon him, but rather than causing him to stir or jolt awake it soothed him and encouraged sleep to take him into its grasp.

* * *

 

_Dearest Brother_

_I apologise for my delay of writing this letter to you and I pray that you can find it in yourself to forgive my forgetfulness. I hope that everything goes well with you and that everyone back home is in good health and spirits._

_The journey to Winchester took far longer than I had originally anticipated, however, everything went according to plan so I have no real cause for complaint. Lawrence itself is a large and lively city, much bigger than the largest of Oceania’s towns and villages. Only yesterday I ventured out into the city and got to see first-hand how prosperous of a nation that I have the grace of residing in._

_Dean, my most beloved husband, is every bit the gentleman that he had been when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Every day he manages to astound me with his kindness and intelligent thoughts. I have no doubt in my mind that when the time comes, he will be a most excellent King and that his Kingdom will further flourish under his rule_

_As of now, I am in good health and with the blessing of our beloved Goddess I will continue to remain that way. The chapel that is being built in Our Lady’s honour will no doubt look exquisite when it is complete. I have attached a copy of the building plans for your viewing pleasure and if it would please you, you could perhaps show it to Father as well._

_I am afraid I must keep this letter short as not only do I wish for you to receive this as soon as possible, but there is also a party to take place soon and my attendance is required.  The nobles of Winchester are returning to court after their departure and there are celebrations to be held in honour of the  union between our two countries._

_Please do send my love to Father and assure him that I am well. Would you also tell Anael that I miss her greatly and that I will send her a letter as soon as I find the time to write one. As for Gabriel, I hope that he his behaving and do also tell him that I miss him as well._

_Sincerely your ever-loving brother_

_Castiel_

Castiel dipped his quill into the inkwell and neatly signed his signature at the bottom of the page. He took a moment to read over his words, frowning as he did so. For obvious reasons, he had taken great care in how he had worded the letter. It would be in everyone’s best interests for the Kings to think that everything was going well, and seeing as this was a letter to Michael he had no doubt that his Father would look over it as well.

Putting the quill to the side, he blew on the paper as he waited for the ink to dry. Behind him, he could hear Dean rummaging around in his cabinets, wardrobes and chests.

“Have you still not found it yet?” Castiel asked, turning in his seat to look at the mess that Dean had made.

Clothes were strewn across the room, some dangling off the back of the benches, others on the bed and the large majority of them were sprawled out on the floor. He had been looking for his favourite outfit for a while now and he had described it to Castiel as ‘a fancy looking one with gold seams.’

“No. Where the hell as it gone?” Dean grumbled, standing up from where he had been crouched down in front of a chest. He was standing there shirtless, with only his trousers and boots on. Castiel rather liked the view, even if Dean was looking increasingly annoyed as he pushed his hands through his hair.

“Have you checked that one?” He pointed to the chest pressed against the foot of the bed.

Dean blinked and the annoyance rushed out of his features. “No.”

So he went and checked and surprise surprise there it was.  He pulled it out and held it up so he could inspect it. The doublet was a wine red and just like Dean had claimed; it looked fancy with golden threads sewn into the collar, the end of the sleeves and the lower hem.

Dean quickly pulled on his undershirt and then the doublet itself, he stood there for a moment brushing it down as he stood in front of the mirror.  “So,” Dean turned to give Castiel a good look, “what do you think?”

He pursed his lips in thought for a moment as he observed the Prince before him.  He looked strong, regal in every way that a Prince should be.  Dean was the sort of young man that every King would pray that their son would turn out to be.  “Magnificent.” Castiel told him, a smile on his lips.

 Dean grinned and lowered his arms. “You finished with your letter?”

He turned to see if the ink was dry, it was. “Yes.” He told him, as he carefully folded it up and printed the Winchester seal along the fold line of the paper.

“Just leave it on the desk, I’ll have someone send it off for you.” Dean was by the mirror again, though this time he was putting on his jewellery. “You better get dressed now too, they’ll be expecting us soon.”

 Soon enough, Castiel was standing in front of a mirror, as he adjusted the sleeves of his newly made tunic. It was a deep blackish blue, like the colour of sky on a clear night, and just like the night sky it was adorned with beautiful flecks and swirls of silver. The tunic was no longer than the other ones he had, it only reached his mid-thighs however, unlike the rest it had a deep plunging neckline so that the finely made white shirt worn beneath could be seen. 

Castiel admired the skilful craftsmanship it must have required to create it, but at the same time he thought it was too much for a lowly Prince such as himself.

“How much did this cost?” He asked, turning to look at Dean who was sitting on the foot of his bed.

“A bit.”

“And how much is a bit?” He pressed, frowning at him.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Forget about it. It’s not like I can’t afford to spoil you every now and then. Besides, you’re a Prince you need to look the part.”

That didn’t make Castiel frown any less. He didn’t want to be spoiled, especially if Dean was wasting such large amounts of money on clothes of all things. He knew that Dean was trying to be good to him, that he was trying to make him happy with gifts, but it wasn’t going to work.  Money and riches were never going to make him happy and Dean had to understand that.

“Fine.  I appreciate the sentiment, but please do not buy me anything this expensive again. It’s a waste of money.”

“Okay, I can do that.” Dean agreed, sounding thoughtful.

Once he had fastened the silver chain necklace around his neck (with Dean’s assistance as he hadn’t been able to do it himself), he was presentable and ready for the occasion.

He was just in time too as there was a knock on the door before it opened a little and Benny’s head poked through.

“Your Highnesses, it’s time.” He told them.

* * *

 

Sitting on his throne beside Dean, Castiel watched the merriment and festivities unfold.  The main hall was brimming with noblemen and noblewomen of varying statuses, all dressed in their best clothes and finest jewellery. The large majority of them were mingling to the sides of the room, others were dancing jovially to the band’s music and the rest were sitting at the long tables, tucking into the banquet. Around them, an army of servants hurried about, constantly resupplying the tables with food and refilling the party goers goblets and flagons with ale or wine.

There were four thrones at the head of the room, King John’s throne was the largest and in the middle. Sam sat to his left and Dean and Castiel sat to his right. The King didn’t seem to have much interest in talking to anyone, if he was spoken to or greeted he would respond, but for the most part he allowed his eldest son to handle the conversations.  Castiel supposed that made sense, after all the large majority of the Lords and Ladies approached the table to congratulate them on their marriage, or to offer them a wedding gift.

“Lord Chambers.” The King greeted with a solemn nod.

“Your Majesty,” Chambers bowed deeply , “your Highnesses.”

“What are you doing back at court?” Dean asked, lowering his goblet of ale. “I thought you hated it here.” He didn’t sound as though he blamed him though.

“I wanted to welcome you back to Winchester, your Highness. And I thought it would only be polite if I introduced myself to your husband as well.” The man’s gaze flickered to Castiel for a moment but then returned to Dean.

“This is my husband, Prince Castiel of Oceania.” Dean said for what seemed to be the hundredth time that evening.

 “It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Chambers.” Castiel said, forcing a polite smile onto his lips.

Chambers nodded in response.

“How is your daughter? Krissy isn’t it?” Dean asked, putting his goblet onto the table before them.

The man smiled, seemingly pleased that Dean remembered. “Yes your Highness, she is doing well. She’s back home, giving her mother some hassle no doubt.”

Dean amusement twisted up the corners of Dean’s lips. “I bet. Tell them I send my regards.”

“Of course, thank you your Highness.” And with that Chambers bowed again and excused him from the table.

“Please tell me that was the last person.” Dean moaned and slumped down in his seat as soon as the Lord was out of ear shot.

“Don’t complain.” Sam grumbled, leaning forward so that he could be seen from his end of the table. “At least they’re talking to you and giving you stuff , I just have to sit here.”

“Lucky me, I’ve always wanted a spoon collection.” He jerked his finger to his right, pointing to the table where the gifts were being put.

Castiel had to admit that a collection of silver spoons wasn’t exactly a suitable wedding present, but then again he wasn’t familiar with Inlander customs so he couldn’t really comment on that. He simply sat back and listened to the two brothers as they bickered back and forth , the lack of any real stimulation was clearly making them both pretty irritable and frankly ,Castiel couldn’t blame them.

“Will you quit your bitching?” The King snapped, looking at his two sons with annoyance.

They both flinched and fell into silence. Even Castiel winced at the harshness in his voice and a few Lords and Ladies perked up to see what the commotion was about.

“Sorry Father.” They said in unison, both sounding awfully apologetic.

John huffed, grabbed his goblet and drunk some ale. “If you’re that bored,” he began, “you can leave the table. Just quit your complaining.”

For a moment the brothers were still, exchanging looks between them as if they were daring the other to go first.

In the end, Sam caved first and pushed his throne away from the table so he could slip through the gap. He stood in front of the table and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.” And with that he went down the few steps and disappeared into the swelling crowd.

Dean stared after him and his hands gripped the arms of his throne until his knuckles went pale. His jaw was clenched and it took no genius to realise that he was tense, troubled even.

“Dean?” Castiel murmured gently, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Huh?” He blinked and turned his way.  “Oh yeah. “ Getting out of his seat, he waited for Castiel to join him at his side in front of the table.

 Just like Sam before them, they both bowed to show their respect to the King and then went down the steps onto the main floor of the hall.

“Cas , will you be alright on your own for a while?” Dean said, eyes scanning the crowd.

If Castiel had to guess, he would say that Dean was looking for his brother. He had left rather abruptly after all and it was obvious that he cared very much for him.

“Of course.” He told him. Castiel didn’t need to be in Dean’s company all the time, he could function just fine without him, or so he told himself.

* * *

 

“So your Highness, where are you from again?” The noblewoman, who had introduced herself as Lady Colfax, asked in her sickly sweet voice.

As soon as Dean had wandered off within a matter of minutes Castiel had been approached by varying aristocrats, some of them he recognised from earlier at the table and others he did not. For the most part, they were all gracious and friendly. They asked how he was finding Lawrence and whether he was in good health. However, just like the people in the city, he didn’t find everyone to be as welcoming.

Castiel would include Lady Colfax, along with her husband amongst the latter group.

“Oceania.”  He told them.

“Oceania?” She repeated, sharing a look of confusion with her husband. “I have never heard of that country before, may I ask where it is?”

“ Of course , it’s to the south, on the coast.”

“Oh.” The couple exchanged another look and Castiel couldn’t help but feel as though he was the butt of a private joke.

Leaning close to his wife, Lord Colfax muttered to her. “That explains why.”

Castiel was just about able to make out his words and they made him frown deeply.

That explained why? What was that supposed to mean? Were they talking about him?

Castiel shifted his weight from one leg to the other, wanting to leave this conversation as soon as he could.  He had never been a social butterfly and scenarios like this were the reason why. He found that courtiers and other people of such high statuses had a way of judging him, looking down at him and questioning everything and anything he did.

It made him feel queasy and he in turn regretted eating so much at the royal banquet table earlier. He had to eat though, seeing as he had been in the company of others he couldn’t have gotten away with just pushing his food around on the plate as he usually did.

 “Excuse me.” He pardoned himself, not wanting to share their company any more.

“It was an absolute pleasure to meet you your Highness.”  The lady said with fake enthusiasm before bowing , her husband did the same.

As soon as he was clear of them, he took in a deep breath. That had been unnerving and he was glad he had managed to escape them sooner rather than later. He still did not know what their problem was and he wasn’t sure he would ever find out. Some people just liked to be malicious whether they had a reason to be or not.

* * *

 

Having tired of wandering around the room and mingling with the guests, Castiel sat back down on his throne at the royal table. The King had long excused himself from the party and had retired to bed. Every single figure in the room (Castiel included) had stopped what they were doing, bid him a good night and bowed before resuming whatever they had been doing before.

Just like the party back home, as the hours went on the revellers became even more at ease, they became merrier and even more inclined to dance to the band’s music. Castiel had been more than content to just sit from his good vantage point and just watch everyone enjoy themselves. He still felt more than a little troubled about what the Colfaxs had said but like the rest of his worries, he never allowed himself to dwell on them for too long.

A figure suddenly slumped down on the throne right beside him. “You’re not dancing?”

“No , I don’t know how you Inlnaders go about it , it looks very different from how we dance back home. What about you?”

“Me?” Dean scoffed as if the idea was ludicrous. “No sweetheart, I don’t dance.”

Sweetheart?  Castiel blinked, confused. And then he smelt it, Dean reeked like alcohol.  

Oh he was going to be a joy in the morning.

“It looks as though you have been enjoying yourself.”

Dean had said he would leave him for a while, which apparently meant a few hours to him. Not that he was annoyed, he was free to revel in merriment as much as he liked. This was a party to celebrate his marriage after all.

“Ha!” Dean grabbed his goblet and held it out so a servant could fill it up. “Yeah I have. Have you? Enjoyed yourself, I mean.”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged.

“Thought not. You’re like Sam.  I bet he’s in his room reading right now.  Is there a proper reason though?” Dean took a sip of his wine and placed the goblet on the table to give him his undivided attention.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether to tell him or not. What would he say or do? Was it even worth it?

“I have never liked such occasions; I avoided them whenever I could back home.” He wasn’t lying; to him he just wasn’t telling the entire truth.

 

“Luckily for you, we’ve got better things to do than party all the time.  You can go to bed now if you want,” he offered, “I won’t tell anyone, promise.” He grinned, leaning on the arm of his chair so he was as close to him as possible.

On one hand , it was rather amusing to see Dean like this. He wasn’t a violent drunk as he had once feared and he wasn’t a loud drunk either. He was just mellow and surprisingly easy to get along with

“ I might take you up on that.” But first , he had something to ask. “Where did you go earlier?”

“Earlier? Oh , I went to talk to Sammy , made sure he was good. Then I talked to Bobby for a bit about stuff , and then I may have gotten into a drinking competition with Benny and Ash.”

It was a little odd that Dean had such a strong friendship with his guard, but it also made sense as they did spend a lot of time together. Though, as of late Victor and Benny did seem to be following him around a lot more than they did Dean.

“I think I might retire now.” Castiel decided as he pushed himself out of his seat.  

 “Niiight.” Dean drawled, giving him a goofy smile and a wave as he wandered off out of the room.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 “Dean, there is no need for you to keep apologising, I’m not angry.” Castiel insisted as he pulled a book out of one of the many shelves that lined the library walls.

Hours after Castiel had retired to bed after the party Dean had drunkenly stumbled into the room and flung himself onto the bed. Chaos had then ensued.  Upon hearing the ruckus guards burst into the room with weapons raised, ready to face whatever threat was before them. But there was no threat to be seen.  Dean was a groaning heap on the floor, tangled up in the bed sheets as Castiel stood above him, chest heaving and wielding a pillow.

It had been an unpleasant wakeup call, but it was water under the bridge now. Castiel didn’t see any reason as to why they had to keep talking about it. He knew Dean was sorry and he had accepted his apology as soon as he had offered it. 

Dean was standing a couple of feet away, holding a growing stack of books for him. His boots were caked with mud and he was wearing a thick cloak with a furry trim.  There was a rosy tint to his cheeks and the end of his nose was a little pink.

“Well tough. I’m going to make it up to you whether you want me to or not.”

 “And how do you plan to go about that?”

“I got you another present.”  He grinned.

Castiel really should have seen that coming. 

He had thought he had made his position clear last time, that he didn’t want fancy clothes or trinkets.  It was a little insulting that Dean seemed to think that he could buy his favour, that if he threw enough nice things at him that everything would be great between them.  Well that wasn’t how it worked and he was sure Dean knew that.

 “Dean.” Castiel warned, handing him another book to add to the pile. “We have spoken about this.”

“Give me a chance Cas. You’ll like it I swear.”

 Sighing, he caved in. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to come and see.” He dumped the books down on the table.

“But I just-“

“They’ll be here when you get back, no one comes in here other than you and Sam. “

Without allowing him time to respond, Dean grabbed his hand. It was icy cold and Castiel had to stop himself from yanking away from his touch. Dean didn’t seem to notice though, as with all the eagerness of an excitable child he tugged him out of the library and down the halls with Benny and Victor following close behind.

* * *

 

“So where is it?” Castiel asked, pulling his cloak tighter to protect himself from the bitter chill of the air.

He was glad that Dean had insisted he pull on a fur cloak today, because by the Sea Goddess it was cold.  He had been slowly getting used to climate here, but this sudden and dramatic change had thrown him off completely.  Inside it hadn’t been so bad, as long as he stayed by a fire and wore warm clothing.  But outside, it seemed as though the whole world had been ensnared in the grip of some icy beast, one that wouldn’t relinquish its hold for many months to come.

“You’ll see.” Dean promised.  “Sam’ll be here in a minute.”

“Sam?”

What did he have to do with this? He had never been present when Dean had given him gifts before. Maybe the brothers were conspiring against him , which did seem to make sense as he hadn’t seen the younger Prince all day.

“Yep.” Dean looked to him with a smile on his face. “Sam.”

Castiel sighed, before turning to the guards who stood close behind them. “Benny, do you know what it is?”

“I do.” He said, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Are you going to tell me?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Dean mime something, a threatening action most likely.

“ ‘Fraid not your Highness.”

“Victor?” It was worth a try right?

“What he said.”

 Oh that was wonderful, everyone else seemed to know what was in store but he was the only one left out. He didn’t like being kept out of the loop.  After everything that had happened back home, all the planning and scheming that had gone on behind his back, he swore that he would pay closer attention to these sorts of things. He knew that this was likely harmless, that Dean was only being so secretive so that it would be a surprise but that didn’t mean that he liked it.

“Fine.” Castiel huffed, crossing his arms sulkily.

And then he heard it, the tell-tale sound of hooves on cobblestone.

Quickly, he turned to see a magnificent white horse being led out of the stables by a stable hand. The horse, whilst it was not nearly as beefy and large as Impala was, it was still bigger and more heavily built than the average Oceanic horse. As it neared, Castiel noticed that the animal was not white as he had originally thought. He was actually more of a light grey, dappled with white spots all over.

“He’s beautiful.” Castiel breathed, tentatively reaching out to pet the animal.

The horse snuffed and pushed its snout into his open palm, glad for the attention.

“Isn’t he?” Sam’s voice agreed.

Sam? Castiel turned to see the younger Prince standing right next to him, petting the length of the horse’s neck.

Castiel hadn’t even noticed him arrive, though he supposed it was only natural seeing as he had been ever so distracted. Though now he was paying attention to him (partially anyway as he was still petting the horse), he noticed what he was wearing. Much like his brother, he was wearing a cape and thick boots.

“So was I right?” Dean asked with a grin upon his face, eager to hear what he had to say. “Do you like him?”

That was an easy question to answer.

 “Yes. I love him.” He beamed, unable to keep the sheer joy out of his expression.

Out of all of the gifts that he had ever received in his whole lifetime, this one was the best. For one, it was no secret that he had a special fondness for animals.  Whether it be a cat, dog or horse, Castiel would always take the moment to give it a quick pet. And then there was the fact that it was a gift that he could actually make use of, it was something he needed and it wasn’t just a trinket or a piece of clothing to look pretty in.  This was a special gift, one that had a lot of thought behind it.

 “See , I told you he’d like it.” Sam said, smugness dripping from his voice.

That caught Castiel’s attention. So was he right? Had they been planning this together?  “What do you mean?” He asked.

“Dean sucks at buying presents.”

“What?” Dean blinked, clearly offended by his brother’s words. “That’s bullshit.”

“You bought me a loom! What am I supposed to do with a loom?” Sam snapped, though there was no real venom behind his words.

“Make shit, I don’t know.” He huffed, his cheeks reddening a little. “I thought you liked stuff like that.”

“Why would you even-” Sam rolled his eyes. “As I was saying, he didn’t know what to get you, cause you hated all of his other presents.  So I helped out.”

Castiel wouldn’t have put it like that, he didn’t hate them, he just didn’t want them in the first place.  And believe it or not, there was a difference.

Smoothing his hand along the horse’s body, Castiel couldn’t help but grin. “Well thank you Sam, Dean.”

 “It’s my pleasure Cas.”  His smile had to be contagious, as Dean was smiling just as much as he was, maybe even more.  “So what you say, wanna go out for a ride with us?”

That was hardly an offer he could refuse. It had been so long since he had ridden last, and whenever he thought about it, it would make him feel sad. Not because it was a bad memory, but more so that it was a memory of his home. It acted a reminder of what he had lost and that was something he could do without.

He had to admit that the weather was almost enough to put him off the whole thing, as it was horribly cold out, but by the Sea Goddess herself he wasn’t going to deny himself this small pleasure. He had been cooped up in the castle for too long and the fresh air would do him good.

“Of course I will.” There was one thing on his mind though. “Will he be alright?” He looked to his horse, frowning a little in concern.

As Castiel smoothed his hand along the horse’s neck, he couldn’t help but notice that it’s coat was not very thick, or at least in comparison to Impala’s coat. The last thing he wanted was to make his horse ill because he took him out for a ride when it was too cold.

“What?” Dean exchanged a confused look with his brother.

“It’s cold.”  

“Oh. Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s used to the cold weather, he’s from Lebanon right?”

Sam nodded in agreement. “That’s what the trader said.”

Well, if they insisted that he would be fine, then he was happy to take their word for it.  

 “So what are you going to call him?” Sam asked.

Sam posed a good question, as he couldn’t just go around calling his horse, horse.  He thought for a moment that he could give him an Inlander name; after all he was an Inlander horse. But that didn’t feel right to him. It was true that in all technicalities, Castiel had the right to call himself an Inlander. He was married to one and one day he would bear Inlander sons and daughters (a thought that still terrified him), but in his mind he still considered himself a Prince of Oceania.  He was certain that he would continue to think that till the day he died.

“Inias.”

“Inias?” Dean repeated. “An Oceanic name?”

Castiel nodded, wondering what Dean thought of it. Would be approve, or disprove of it?

“Nice.”  He stepped closer, shoulder bumping into Castiel’s as he gave Inias a quick pet. “Should we get this show on the road? I’m sure you wanna try him out, the guy at the stables said that he rides like a dream. And he doesn’t bite, so that’s a bonus.”

Castiel laughed. Of course Dean would still be bitter about that.

“Come on then.”

* * *

 

Dean was right, Inias rode like a dream.

His gait was steady and not once did Castiel feel as though he was at risk of slipping off the saddle. He was calm, obedient and without even a noise of complaint the grey horse wadded through murky puddles and the thick, sticky mud.  The only time when Castiel had any sort of issue with him, was when the horse unexpectedly came to a halt to nibble at some grass and even then after a gentle nudge they were well on their way again.

“Hey.” Dean waved his hand, calling for Castiel’s attention.

For a long while now, he had just been watching the autumn forest pass by.  

At a first glance, it had looked bleak and barren, but the more he watched the more he realised that wasn’t the case. Small fluffy looking rodents (that were, according to Sam called squirrels) , scurried about in the trees and dove into leaf piles.  Little birds perched on spindly branches and called back and forth, though as soon as their little convoy came too close they flew away in a blur of small flapping wings.  And Dean, at one point had even quietly pointed out a buck that was like a shadowy figure between the trees. Fascinated, Castiel had steered Inias closer to the edge of the path so he could get a better look at the mysterious antlered creature. But in doing so, he only achieved to startle the animal, which called out in alarm before dashing away.

“Hmm?” Castiel turned, giving him his full and undivided attention.

He nudged Impala closer. “Me and Sam were thinking of stopping for a bite to eat. Sound good to you?” 

That wasn’t a hard question to answer. “Of course. What did you bring?” He asked, looking pointedly at the bag attached to Impala’s saddle.

“Food.”

Castiel swatted his arm in a light scolding. “Obviously.”

That only made Dean grin even more.

 Before things could escalate, Sam sandwiched himself between the two of them. “There should be a meadow around here. We could stop off there.” Sam suggested, clearly ignoring the scowl his brother was sending his way.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”  Dean nodded approvingly, all bitterness gone from his expression. “What do you think Cas?”

“I don’t know what a meadow is,” he admitted with a sheepish shrug, “but it sounds nice.”

For a moment, he thought that they would tease him. It didn’t happen too often  but on a couple of occasions when they brothers were together , they would find something Castiel had said odd or amusing and proceed to laugh and jest about it.  They didn’t mean any harm, Castiel knew that but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a little annoying. It wasn’t his fault that he was a foreigner and didn’t understand all their customs and references yet.

This time they didn’t tease him or make a comment, they just took it in their stride.

“You’ll see it soon. I think it’s around…” Sam tugged his steed to a stop and looked about. “That way.” He pointed to their left, where a thin track veered off  into the woods.

As the path way was so narrow, all five of them had to walk in a single file. The offbeat pathway was not nearly as well maintained as the main trail they had been following, so there were overhanging branches which they all had to duck under and push out of the way.

“Don’t you dare.” Sam growled, knowing full well what his brother had planned.

“What?” Dean asked innocently, reaching up to push a branch out of the way.

“You know what-“

Just like Sam had predicted, for the fourth time in a row, Dean let go of the branch, it snapped back and whipped him right in the face.

“Dean! Ow. You jerk!”

Roaring in laughter, Dean’s form trembled as he tried and failed to control himself.

 When he looked back, Castiel noticed that Benny was laughing too, though he was fairing much better at trying to contain it. Victor on the other hand didn’t look overly amused; perhaps he was a more serious sort of man, compared to Dean and Benny at least.

“Are you alright Sam?” Castiel asked, frowning as he watched him rub at his face.

“Yeah. I just got something in my eye.”

“You should apologise Dean.” It wasn’t quite an order, as he wasn’t in the position to be ordering his husband around. But it was a firm request, the sort that it would be wise to just go along with unless he wanted some conflict. And after all of his efforts, Castiel was sure he didn’t want that.

Dean went quiet.

Benny on the other hand was still snickering.

“Dean?”

“Yeah , okay!” He huffed, clearly not enjoying being put on the spot. He peered over his shoulder so that he could see Sam. “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Sam pressed, noting that his brother didn’t like this one bit.

Benny’s snickering grew louder and even Victor seemed to be laughing a little bit too.

“Oh shut it. You got your apology, you guys ain’t getting else out of me.”

Castiel grimaced, concerned by his reaction. Had he overstepped his mark? He hoped not, because everything had been going so well today. He felt as though they had made some progress, that they had gotten a little closer and that they understood each other a little better now. Hopefully, whatever damage had been done wasn’t irreparable.

With a frustrated grumble, Dean spurred Impala into a gallop. It meant that he was being slapped and battered by branches and bushes, he didn’t seem to care though. He just wanted to get some space between him and Sam, or so Castiel assumed.

“Don’t worry about him.” Sam assured him knowingly.

Castiel blinked. Why did he assume that he was worried about him?  Sam was right, he was worried about him but not in the way that he probably thinking.

“He’s just embarrassed, wanted to impress you. Right Benny?” Sam turned in his saddle and looked at the burly guard.

Castiel turned to look as well.

“Amen. He was real excited about this, wanted to make it up to you after last night.” He had an amused smirk on his face, one that he shared with Victor.

 Neither of them had been on guard at the time as they didn’t take the night shift, but Castiel had no doubt they knew about what had happened this morning. From what he could tell, the royal guards were a bunch of gossipers, just like the servants and cooks in the kitchens. It was all harmless fun he supposed, so he didn’t really mind it so much.

However, he couldn’t say that he was keen about the way some servants, maids and other members of staff would whisper things to each other and then pointedly look at him. During his stay at the castle, it had happened a couple of times when he had been wandering around.  He hoped that his novelty would wear off soon enough and they would just leave him well alone.

“What happened anyway?” Sam asked. “I heard you had a fight or something.”

“More like he got his ass beat. With a pillow.” Victor cut in for the first time.

Sam burst out laughing.  “Really?”

Shaking his head a little, Castiel couldn’t help but smile.  “Sort of.” 

* * *

 

After a few moments more of walking along the path, it widened out into a lush green space. The grass was long and flowers of all different colours sprouted out of the ground. For such a cold time of year when all the plants seemed to be dying, it was as if this little opening in the woods was in a world of its own. That it was exempt from the rules of nature where it could continue to thrive, completely untouched by the cold. 

It was a truly beautiful place and Castiel could easily see why Sam had chosen this spot.

The picnic was already set up by the time they had arrived. Dean had unrolled the blanket out on the grass and placed d the spread of food atop it. And what a spread it was. There were thick cuts of meat, various sorts of cheeses, fruits, several wineskins, cakes and pastries. Just looking at the food made Castiel’s tummy rumble in anticipation.

“So what do you think? Pretty huh?” Sam asked admiring the view from beside him.

 “Very.” He agreed, before tilting his head thoughtfully. “You used to come here often?”

He nodded. “Yeah all the time, before Dad put a stop to it.”

Castiel was tempted to ask why, but he decided against it. This was such a beautiful, wonderful place and it would be wrong to ruin it with such talk.  Today was supposed to be a good day for everyone, it was a break of sorts, some time for everyone to spread their wings a little and relax after the hustle and bustle of yesterday’s party.

He was still a little troubled about what some of the party goers had said and even though he did his best not to think about it, it was a nagging thought in the back of his head. It wiggled and burrowed into his mind; finding crevices to hide in so that he couldn’t flush it out no matter how hard he tried.

“You need help getting down or something?” Sam asked, standing on the grass beside him giving his horse a quick pet.

Castiel hadn’t even noticed him dismount and when he looked to Victor and Benny they had already done the same too. They were all looking up at him curiously, likely wondering what he was doing just sitting on his horse and staring into space.

They probably thought he was so weird.

“No. I can do it.”  He insisted as he clambered off of Inias’ back.

The horse snorted in response to all the jostling and movement but as soon as Castiel was lovingly rubbing the grey end of his snout, he was as happy as could be again. He really was a lovely horse and Sam and Dean couldn’t have chosen better.

Speaking of Dean, Castiel couldn’t help but notice that he was lingering on the edge of the meadow, as if he were trying to escape their attention. He was in the process of unsaddling his horse and he had this angry sort of pout upon his lips, the sort that told him that whatever was running through his mind wasn’t doing his mood any favours. As soon as he unbuckled the saddle, he angrily tossed it to the floor, only to receive a scolding huff from his horse. His expression softened and with such lovely tenderness Dean smoothed his hand down the white stripe of her nose. His lips moved slowly and Castiel imagined soft, soothing words leaving his mouth.

He had such nice lips , he thought.  They were so soft and plaint and Castiel found himself thinking about the time they had kissed, when his hand had ever so gently cupped his cheek and he had leaned in and-

What?

Castiel blinked, shocked with how his line of thought had suddenly veered into such strange and new territory. He didn’t like it, not one bit. Whatever that was, it wasn’t the sort of thought that should be going through his mind. He wanted it out and he prayed to the Sea Goddess that it was a random, stray thought and nothing more than that.

Walking over to the edge of the meadow with Inias in tow, Castiel came to a stop.  “Hello Dean.” He greeted.

“Hey.” Dean said, turning around so that he was giving him his full attention.

“Are you all right?”

“Me? Yeah, course I am.” He had this frown on his face, the sort that made it clear that he had no idea why he had been asked that.  “Why?”

“You seem a little…” Castiel trailed off as he searched for the word. “Distant.”

“Nah.” He waved his hand, as if he were dismissing his worries. “You worry too much. How about you though? You’re all red. You Cold?”

He was doing that thing again, where he would suddenly change the topic. Turn the conversation around so it was focusing on anything other than himself. It was a terrible habit and one that Castiel hoped that he would grow out of in time. He really doubted that though, as Dean seemed to be the sort of man who was stuck in his ways.

Now , it was true that he was cheeked, but he had a feeling that it was nothing to do with the cold. “A little.” He admitted, which wasn’t a lie as it was still chilly out.

“Come ‘ere.” He motioned for him to come closer.

“What?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Just come here.”

Letting go of Inias’ reins, he stepped forward obediently. Castiel had no idea what he wanted but whatever it was, it would just be best to go along with it. Shrugging off his long fur lined cloak, Dean flung it around Castiel’s shoulders and fastened it up.  It felt pretty heavy wearing two cloaks, but he had to admit it did the trick as he was already beginning to warm up.

Fiddling with the fur trimming, Dean looked down at him. “That better?”

Castiel nodded. “What about you though?” He asked, a concerned frown on his face.

“I’ll be fine for a little while, just remember to give it back.”

Again Castiel nodded.

The horses, left to their own devices had bent down and were nibbling at the long grass.  The noise of the grass being torn out of the ground felt rather loud in that moment, especially considering that a heavy silence had settled between the two of them. Now Castiel wasn’t one for meaningless small talk, but this silence wasn’t the sort he was comfortable with. It was a little awkward and Castiel could feel the prickles of eyes on his back.  The others were watching them from the where they were sitting on the blanket then.

“Come sit with us, please.”  Castiel asked, hoping he would say yes.

Dean eyed the others for a moment and his lips twisted into a pout as he thought about it. “Okay.” He agreed with a bit of a sigh.

* * *

 

Things went smoothly after that. There were no more arguments or tiffs and everyone seemed to universally agree that it was easier if they pretended that whatever had happened earlier didn’t even happen at all.  The brothers still bickered a little, but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. And whatever had been bothering Dean didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Just as Castiel had predicted, lunch was delicious and soon enough everyone was slouching back, feeling as though that if they ate any more they would surely burst. Now, Castiel wasn’t fond of Inlander food and more often than not he would rather go without than have to eat it. However this time, Dean had packed honey and these sort of biscuity things. So for once, he treated himself to generous sized lunch. Of course, this meant that he did receive some odd looks, mostly from Sam and Benny as he crammed honey drizzled biscuits into his mouth, but he didn’t care.  

Soon enough, it was time to go and they began preparing the horses and packing away the picnic. With all of them chipping in this time, it didn’t take long and after a little while they were on their way back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a bit of a filler one , but mehhhh. Stuff should be happening again soon so hang on tight.
> 
> Anyways , thanks for bearing with me and putting up with my laziness. Don't forget to comment because I love to hear what y'all have to say.
> 
> Ciao! :D


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel stared out of the window as the snow drifted down from the sky like flecks of dust in the sunlight. Weeks had passed since Dean had given him Inias, and winter firmly had the Kingdom of Winchester in its grip. Dean told that it would get colder, but for some, silly reason he assumed that he was just fooling around with him, that he were putting his odd sense of Inlander humour to use. Much to his dismay, he wasn’t kidding.  Other than the few times that Dean dragged him outside to play in the snow (although Castiel feared he was going to freeze solid, he had to admit it was fun), he mostly stayed inside. Not that it helped much, as it was still awfully chilly. Despite the fact that he was bundled up in layers upon layers of blankets and throws, he was still awfully cold.

Still, he had to admit there was something captivating about watching the snow fall. There was a quiet elegance to it, that without a sound everything was buried in snow after a few hours. It was beautiful too, everything was so bright and shining, as if the ground was covered with thousands of pearls that glinted in the sun.  Sometimes, when he daydreamed, it looked like the white sandy beaches back home. Those silly thoughts soon scurried away when a shiver ran down his spine.

Much to his surprise, the servants were both very understanding and patient with him and his inability to cope with the cold. They made time in their busy schedules so that they could check up on him, put more logs on the fire if the fire died down too much and brought him something warm to drink if he wanted it. Castiel knew that the only reason they were being so attentive was because Dean specifically instructed them to be. Still, he appreciated their effort and would thank them with a kind and meaningful smile whenever he had the chance to. If he had to choose a favourite of all of the servants who tended to him, well it would have to be Missouri. Whilst she was respectful and polite, as a servant should be, she didn’t treat him like a breakable teacup. She clearly had no issue with speaking her mind and on several occasions she scolded him as if he were a misbehaving child.  At first it had been odd, startling even, but after a while he found it endearing and he often looked forward to when she popped in for the day.

As if Missouri knew that he was thinking of her, not a moment later, she ambled into the room without bothering to knock or announce her presence. No other servant would have been able to get away with that, the guards standing at the door would surely put them in their place. For some reason though, everyone seemed to have this grounded sense of respect for her. Castiel suspected that it was because she had worked in the castle for so long. There was no real way of him knowing as to whether that was the case, as whenever he asked she would just smile knowingly.

 “Good afternoon Missouri.” He greeted with a smile from his spot on the bench by the fire.

“Your highness.” Her bow was shallow, because in her old age her back was giving her some trouble. “I have some letters for you, from your siblings.”

“You do?”

It had been ages since he had sent that letter to Michael, so he had been expecting a response for a while now. What he hadn’t expected was letters from his other two siblings. How did she know it was from them? Surely not. Hurrying over to the desk, he sat down on the chair and picked them up. Just as she had said, all three of them were stamped with the royal seal as proof of their legitimacy. There were no signatures on the outside, no way for her to be able to tell who they were from, unless she had read them. Which she couldn’t have, as the seals were not broken and the paper didn’t have a single tear on it.

“How did you know that?” He asked, tilting his head in confusion.

 “I have my ways.” She told him, smirking to herself.                                

Castiel knew better than to keep badgering her about it, if she didn’t want to tell him, she wasn’t going to. It was as simple as that. So instead, he left her to her tidying and opened up the first of the letters.  It was from Michael and its tone was, predictably, aloof.  After pardoning his delay and assuring that all was well back home, he went straight to business. It was less of a letter than a series of questions, all written down in quick succession and leaving no room for small talk. _How have the people of Winchester reacted to you, are they supportive of the marriage? Have you visited any other of Winchester’s settlements, if so what are they like? How are you finding the nobles?_ And so on so forth. Michael was obviously fishing for information, snooping and spying as he usually did. This was nothing new and Castiel wasn’t surprised in the least, however, there was one question in particular that did make his breath catch in his throat.

  _Have you conceived yet?_

By the Sea Goddess, he had no issue with being blunt did he?  The answer to that question was no, he hadn’t conceived, or at least to his knowledge. He didn’t feel any different and neither did he look any different (as far as he could tell anyway), so he was fairly sure that he wasn’t pregnant. It was true his appetite had waned and he wasn’t eating as much as he used to, but that was because he really didn’t like the food here. If it was fruit, or that honey and bread combination Dean often treated him with, he would usually eat it all. If given anything else he would poke it around on the plate for a while, before declaring he was finished. That was his routine here and he had no intentions of changing it. He was just stubborn that way.

But what should he tell Michael? Should he be honest and say that he wasn’t pregnant? Or deliberately be vague and leave him guessing?

Sighing, he dropped the letter to the table. He would have to think about this a lot before he responded. So for now, he picked up the next letter and gently pried it open. This one was from Anael and it was short but sweet, much like her really.  For the majority of the letter she went on about how much she missed him and how she was finding life without her _favourite brother._ It was clear for Castiel to see that she missed him a lot, but at least she was getting on with her life and was in good health and spirits. As he read through it, a fond smile appeared on his face.  She was such a sweet and lovely child, unlike her other siblings who were anything but sweet and lovely.

Before he had departed for Winchester with his new husband and family, Castiel had sworn to her that they would see each other again one day.  As much as he wished that they would, deep down he knew that he would probably never see her again. Yes he had lied to her, but at the time it was his only choice.  She was already distraught and he didn’t want to make it worse, so he had lied.  

So many things had changed since then. He knew Dean, he knew that Dean wanted to please him, to make him happy. So that if he asked for something, if it was within his power, Dean would get it for him. And so, Castiel came to the conclusion that if he asked if his sister could stay a while, he would probably say yes. The visit would have to be postponed for a few years until she was old enough to make the journey, because right now she was far too young for it. Castiel didn’t mind waiting for her, just seeing all grown up would make all the waiting worthwhile.

And then Castiel had to consider what his Father had said right before he left.  After all this time he still couldn’t make sense of it.

‘ _And remember,’_ his Father had told him solemnly, _‘that even though you live Inland, you will always be a son of mine and you will always be welcome here.’_

To this day, Castiel couldn’t understand why he had said that. Or what had caused his temporary, and frankly startling, change in personality. But if there was one thing he was certain about his Father, was that he never said something without cause. So if he said he was welcome to return anytime, then he was welcome to return anytime.

And so, Castiel had two options here. He could either wait till Anael was old enough to come here herself, or make the several week long journey back to Oceania. If he were being honest, the latter option did sound the best to him, for obvious reasons.

Peering down at the yellowed paper, Castiel frowned. He was doing it again, allowing his daydreams to run wild and wreak havoc in his mind, like a bull in a pottery shop. Being cooped away like this surely couldn’t be good for his mind, things had been getting better and yet he was regressing again. Letting his mind to aimlessly wander back to those painful thoughts that he had been doing his best to avoid. Right, snow or not once he was done here he was going to go for a walk to clear his mind. Maybe he would check on the progress of the chapel, Dean had told him that it would be finished soon, despite the weather. Before he got to that, he needed to finish going through his letters. Maybe he would have a spot of tea first though, as sitting so far from the fire was making him rather chilly.

* * *

 

The tea that Missouri bought him was as bitter as the last. It was grainy and bitty, but warm enough to make him want to drink it. Once he was done with it, he forced himself to go back to the letters. All of the letters so far had been… rather difficult in their own ways so he couldn’t help but be cautious about the last one.

Missouri claimed that they were all from his siblings, so if he was to believe her then this one would have to be from Gabriel. He had never been the sort to write letters and if he was, well Castiel was sure that he wouldn’t take the time to write him one. And yet as he unfolded the paper, being careful not to rip it, he saw Gabriel’s messy handwriting on the page. He spoke of how things were back in Oceania, that apparently the weather was pleasant as always, the people were flourishing and the sea was still as bountiful as ever. This was very reassuring and all, but he couldn’t help but feel as though something was wrong.  The letter was just so… bland and unremarkable. There were no witty rejoinders and no teasing words, it felt flat and boring, as if some grey bearded scholar had written this in Gabriel’s stead. Castiel was certain that wasn’t the case though, as other than the handwriting his brother had provided proof of its authenticity.  He had written:

_Remember the times we used to go cliff diving? And you always used to get scared, even though we always used to do it?_

Castiel did remember those times, but that wasn’t the point that he was getting at here. After finding out that his children had been leaping off high cliff tops and diving into the sea, their Father had explicitly forbid them from doing so. Gabriel, even at a young age, was mischievous and had somehow managed Castiel to go jumping with him on occasion. This was their little secret, his way of proving that he was the one who had written this letter. Why? Why would he need to do that and what was he trying to say?

“Be careful your Highness.” Missouri said from behind him, making him jump. He had forgotten that she was there. “You’ll give yourself a headache if you keep that up.”

Rubbing his forehead, he sagged back against the chair. He was starting to get a bit of a headache, now that he thought about it. “Something’s wrong.” He told her.

“What do you mean?” She asked, coming to stand beside him.

Picking up the letter, he passed it to her. Castiel had no issue with sharing them with her and for all he knew, she might have been able to spot something he had missed, she was rather astute after all. At first, he wasn’t sure whether this was a good idea or not, as he just realised she might not be able to read. Not all servants were literate, even back in Oceania.  The way that she took the letter and began to skim her eyes from side to side told him otherwise though.

Once she had finished reading it, she hummed thoughtfully to herself and passed the letter back. 

“So? What is it? Did you find anything?” He asked rapidly, not giving her a chance to answer his questions in turn.  

 She shook her head.  “He is hiding something for sure, but that is something for you to find out. It is not my place.”

Not her place? He had given her permission to look, so why was she being this way? There was no use for it, she wasn’t going to tell him and he wasn’t going to force her. That wasn’t the sort of Prince he was, no it wasn’t the sort of man he was. Castiel sighed and rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired and heavy as though the weight of the world was upon his slim shoulders.  Things had been getting better lately, so of course it was about time for things to slip.

“Do you think- do you think he is in trouble?”

Was this letter his way of calling out for help? Maybe someone was watching him, reading his letters and communications without his permission. If that was the case, then his only course of actions would be to hide messages within his letters for his recipients to decode. Picking up the sheet of paper again he scanned over it, looking for some sort of sign that he had missed before.

“He might be.” She said, not able to say much else on the matter.

Missouri was right, there was no way of them knowing. At least not now, only time would tell so there was little Castiel could do but respond to the letters, send them off and just wait and see.

* * *

 

Castiel began with his sister’s letter first. It was the easiest one for him to write as there were no hidden messages or agendas, it was merely a letter from a brother to a sister. He kept it simple, not wanting her to worry or fret about him more than necessary. He told her that he had settled in well, that he was enjoying his stay here and it had recently started to snow. He was sure that she would like that, that she would find the whole concept thrilling and so he went into as much detail about it as he could.

He had just been about to sign it off when the door suddenly burst open, making Castiel drop his quill.

For a brief moment, Castiel thought that it was the guards being overzealous in their attempts to protect him. Again. But it wasn’t a guard, it was Dean. He hurried in, panting a little as he slammed the door behind him, making the walls tremble.

Without thought, Castiel scrambled off his chair, nearly tripping up over the ends of his blanket in his haste. “Dean? Is something the matter?”

Dean didn’t look angry. He didn’t have a furious turn to his lips and his brows weren’t pinched, he just looked worried, panicked even. He was pale (paler than usual anyway, because to Castiel he always looked pale), that was probably down to the cold more than anything else because it was obvious he had just been outside.  Striding over to him, Dean came to a stop and placed his hands upon his shoulders.  Castiel noticed that they were muddy and they were getting the cream fur of his blanket dirty, but that was inconsequential at that moment so he didn’t bother to mention it.

“I have to speak with you.”

He nodded, more than willing to hear what he had to say. No matter whether it was bad news or not. “Missouri? Could you give us a moment please?”

Dean’s eyes widened for a moment, he had been so focused on Castiel that he hadn’t noticed her sweeping the other side of the room.  “Oh. Sorry Mrs Mosely.”

“Don’t you worry.” She waved the notion away. “Take all the time you need, your Highnesses, I was just about done anyway.”

Nodding at her gratefully, they watched her leave and only when the door closed behind her did Castiel speak.

“Dean, what is it?” He asked, touching his arm in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

“It’s Dad.” He told him, leaning into his touch a little “He wants to talk to you.”

That wasn’t what he had expected, not at all. So, understandably he was taken back.  The King of Winchester barley recognised his existence, let alone initiated a proper conversation with him. They had spoken on a couple of occasions but the King was very curt and had kept the exchange as brief as he possibly could. So why would he want to speak with him now? And why did Dean seem so spooked by the prospect?

“About?” Castiel pressed, wondering if there was something Dean knew that he didn’t.

“I really don’t know Cas. That’s what bothers me.”

* * *

 

“I’ll be waiting right here, okay?” Dean told him, coming to a stop a few steps short of his Father’s study.

“Yes.”

Castiel had only been to this part of the castle once and that was only because Sam was showing him where he wasn’t allowed to go. At the time he had only managed to sneak a quick glance before Sam continued the tour, but from what he could tell it looked the same. The corridors were just as dark and gloomy, and the all of the doors were bolted shut with thick, bars of metal. And just like before, unless granted permission by King John himself, no one was allowed to enter. Even his own sons. Security here was very tight. The area was crawling with guards, all armed to the teeth with the most modern and deadly weapons.  Even the most highly trained assassin or thief would find it impossible to slip past the guards unnoticed. If they were foolish enough to try, well surely a fate worse than death would be waiting for them.

In fact, security was so strict that it took several minutes for Dean, Benny and Victor to persuade the King’s guard to allow them to pass. Apparently they were happy to let Castiel go through, however, the same could not be applied to the others. The King's guard were sticklers for rules, the King had asked for Castiel so he was the only one who was allowed to enter. Dean, as Castiel had expected, kicked such a fuss that they just let them all through to put a stop to it.

“Just-“Dean took a deep breath “be polite, tell him what he wants to hear.”

That was something he could do.  “I will.” Castiel promised, touching his arm again consolingly. “I shall see you later.”

And with that, he pulled away and knocked on the heavy study doors.

All was quiet for a moment, and then from the other side of the door a low voice called out. “Come in.”

With some difficulty, Castiel pushed the door open, entered the King’s study and heaved it closed behind him.

For some reason, Castiel presumed that the study would be neat and tidy, that it would look something like his Father’s office. Well, he was wrong. To a degree. Messy wasn’t the right word to describe it, as it implied that there was no sense of order or organisation to it. Every sheet of paper and book had been put in that exact spot so that John could easily reach them if need be. It was obvious that servants weren’t allowed in here to tidy up, as no sane servant would leave the room in such a state. And so, Castiel assumed that John tended to the room himself so that no one would be able to rummage around where they shouldn’t be.

John sat at the desk in the centre of the room, his back facing the wide stained glass window behind him. He waved him forward, gesturing for him to sit in the chair in front of the desk. So he did.

“What took you so long?” He asked, tapping his fingers impatiently against the table.

“My apologies, your Majesty.  Dean insisted that he personally escort me here, your King’s guard took issue with that.” He told the King plainly, but respectfully.

“Hmm.” That appeared to be enough to appease him. “Do you know why I called for you?”

Castiel shook his head.

“You have been in Lawrence for weeks now, how are you getting on?”

“I am doing well, your Majesty. You and your sons have been very hospitable.” That wasn’t a lie, or at least the last part wasn’t.

“Hmm. And the weather?” He was expectant, waiting for some sort of complaint

Castiel bit his lip. “I have to admit that it is… unpleasant. But I am adjusting. Slowly.”

John’s lips twitched up into what could have been the beginnings of a smile. Castiel wasn’t certain though, because it vanished a moment later, as if it had never been there in the first place.

“I have received a letter from the King of Oceania,” King John began as he pulled a letter out from one of the drawers beneath the desk, “he asks about you.”

 “He did?”

“Yes, amongst other things.” He looked down at the letter with a frown, his eyes moving from side to side as he read it over again.

Castiel couldn’t help but wonder what those other things were, he wasn’t going to ask though. It wasn’t his place to and he was sure that John would put him in his place if he tried. So he waited patiently till King John was ready to speak again.

“How much do you know about the treaty?” He asked, putting the letter down.

“Very little.” He admitted with a bit of a shrug. When John didn’t respond, Castiel assumed that he wanted him to further explain, so he did.  “It establishes several trade routes between the two kingdoms. And was cemented by the marriage between myself and Dean.” That was all he really knew.

John leaned back in his chair and it creaked in protest. “That what they told you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s part of the reason,” John told him, “but not _the_ reason.”

Castiel wasn’t surprised, or at least not nearly as much as he should have been. He had suspected that for a long while now, but it was good to know he hadn’t been chasing shadows. Of course that begged an entirely different line of questions. If it wasn’t about trade, then what was it about? Why had John agreed to it in the first place? And what did he have to gain?

 “Are you pregnant yet?” John asked, snapping him out of his musings and making Castiel’s temper flare up.

It always came back to this didn’t it? This was all he was good for. Or at least that was most people seemed to think. Why couldn’t they just-

“No your Majesty.” He responded calmly, remembering what Dean had said outside of his office. “Hopefully I will be soon.”

“Hmm. Hopefully.”  He repeated, though he didn’t sound so keen.  “Well, if you need anything just ask either of my sons, they will handle it for you.”

That was obviously a dismissal, so Castiel moved to get out his chair.

“Oh.” The King blinked, as if remembering something suddenly. “Did you get your letters? They arrived this morning.”

“I did.”

“Good. You can go now.” And with that, Castiel left the King to his own devices.

* * *

 

Dean pounced on him as soon as he left the study. “How did it go?”

Castiel wouldn’t have been surprised if he had spent the whole time pressing his ear to the door, not that he would have heard much, if anything as they were very thick.  Surely Benny and Victor wouldn’t have allowed him to do so, Dean was their Prince but John was their King and so they would ensure his privacy was respected. Or so he assumed.

“He didn’t send for me to be executed, so I think it went well.”

Dean smiled, understanding that he was joking. “Great. So what did he say?” He began to lead him down the hallway, back the way they came with Victor and Benny following silently in tow.

“He asked how I was doing. Said that Father had sent him a letter. He asked about me, which was nice of him.” More than nice really, as he was under no obligation to do so. “We talked a little about the treaty-"

Dean suddenly cut in. “What did he say about it?”

“Not much.” Castiel admitted, side eying him as they went along. “He didn’t outright say it, but he hinted that there was more to it than just trade. I had already assumed that was the case, but still it was strange.”

“Really?”  Dean sounded dubious.

“Yes really. Why would he lie?” Castiel asked, tilting his head.

“No clue.” He shrugged. “Anyway, let’s get out of this dump.”

Castiel couldn’t help but wonder if Dean knew something he didn’t, maybe that was why he had been so worried. No, surely not. They were open and honest with each other now, they were friends. If one had something on their mind, the other was always willing to listen to them.  He was just thinking about this too much, he had too much going on and it was confusing him and making him too suspicious.

“Yes, lets.” He agreed, smiling back at him with a smile that was reserved for his eyes only.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS GOING SOMEWHERE I PROMISE!
> 
> Comments and kudos are really appreciated :D
> 
>  


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning there is some xenophobia and sacrilege in this chapter, thought I should give you a heads up just in case.
> 
>  

After weeks of waiting the chapel was finally complete. And it was everything that Castiel had wanted, and more.

When Dean had first shown him the plans, he couldn’t help questioning his design choices. He understood where Dean had got the idea from and the sentiment behind it, but Castiel had been so sure that it wouldn’t look right. Oceanic and Winchester architecture was too different, combining them would only result in creating a hideous monstrosity. A building that Castiel wouldn’t want to even look at, let alone pray in. Despite all of Castiel’s preconceptions and worries, the end result was truly and utterly beautiful. A couple of moderations had been made along the way, minor adjustments really, though for the most part the builders stuck to the original plans. 

The chapel was larger than it probably needed to be, after all Castiel -and perhaps his children- were the only ones who were going to use it. Not that he was complaining or anything. With its size came a sense of grandeur and importance, befitting of a place of worship. But at the same time, it wasn’t too big. It didn’t impose upon the castle, or challenge its presence. It blended into the scenery as if it belonged and had been there for many, many years. The builders had also laid down a neat, cobbled path through the garden, so that he wouldn’t have to wade through the mud anymore, which was a pleasant addition.

The interior of the chapel was even more stunning than the outside.  And when Castiel entered for the first time, he couldn’t help stare in awe. The room was large and spacious, uncluttered despite its ample furnishings. To the front of the room, facing the water fountain, were two dark wooden pews. They had obviously been made in Winchester, and yet there was a clear Oceanic influence in their design. Neat, curled patterns were carved into the arms and the backs of the benches. A pretty little detail to the catch the eye. However, when Castiel took a moment to examine them closer he realised that it wasn’t just a nonsensical pattern. They were waves, tossing and rolling, cresting and smashing against rocky outcrops that lined the shore. His fingers traced the etchings as a smile curved at his lips. It was a lovely addition and Castiel had no doubt that it had been Dean’s idea to include it. He was thoughtful like that.

Hanging on the wall behind the fountain was a painting. It was small but eye-catching with its bright shades of blue and pale yellows. The painting was of a beach, one that Castiel was intimately familiar with. It didn’t look exactly like he remembered it, for some reason the artist had decided not to paint the various islands that could be seen on the horizon and the rabble of boulders that were amassed at the bottom of the cliff. But still, the picture was gorgeously done and it looked enough like his home to just feel _right_.

“So what do you think? Do you like it?” Dean asked eagerly beside him, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

 Castiel drew in a deep breath and dug his toes into the plush carpet that lined the floor of the aisle. It was customary to take your shoes off when in a chapel, so of course Castiel had taken his off and insisted that Dean did the same. The room, though faint, did have a slight twinge of salt in the air. As if someone had tossed it about in an effort to recreate the heavy scent of salty sea air. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was similar enough for Castiel to find it soothing in a nostalgic sort of way.

“I absolutely love it.” Castiel grinned, his eyes shining and bright with glee.

Unable to stop himself, he grabbed Dean close for a hug. There was no finesse to it, he simply yanked him in and tightly wrapped his arms around him. It wasn’t at all princely, but really Castiel couldn’t care less. Dean froze for a moment, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. And then he was hugging him in return, patting his back in casual display of affection.

“Okay. You can let me go now Cas.” Dean said after a while. His hands had stopped moving but they were still pressed comfortably against his back, as if despite his words he didn’t really want to let go.

For the first time, Castiel noticed that Dean smelled nice. He had this earthy sort of smell to him, rich and flavoursome, but not overwhelmingly so.  Castiel had never been a hugger, or one for any sort of physical contact. It wasn’t that it repulsed him or anything as dramatic as that, it was simply that the prospect didn’t appeal to him. He couldn’t imagine wanting to hold someone close, other than his sister of course. And yet this was different. Strangely it felt good, addictive almost. 

 “Cas c’mon I can’t breathe.”

Castiel was sure that was an exaggeration, he wasn’t holding him that tightly. Nonetheless, he pulled his arms away and took a step back so that Dean had some room. “Sorry.”

“Nah.” Dean assured, though there was a tint of pink to his cheeks.  He cleared his throat, reasserting his usual self. “Don’t worry about it. Really glad you like it. Would’ve been a damn waste of time and money if you didn’t.”

Castiel nodded, unable to keep the pleased smile off his face. Not that he really tried to. “Thank you Dean.”

Rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, he smiled back at him.

A silence settled between them. It wasn’t forced or uncomfortable, it was expectant. They held each other’s gaze and for long moment neither of them looked away. That was until Dean cleared his throat again, as if embarrassed. As to what had made him all flustered like that, Castiel could only guess. 

“So uh… I’ll let you get your pray on. The guys’ll be waiting outside, so if you need them just shout.”

“Of course.” Castiel didn’t expect Dean to hang around with him all day, he had more important things to do than pretend to pray to a deity that he didn’t even believe in.

“See you this evening.” He said, before heading down the aisle. He stopped at the front door and picked up one of his boots , it took a couple of moments of awkwardly balancing on one leg  , soon enough he had both of them back on and he was on his way.

Faintly, Castiel heard him bidding the guards outside farewell. Then there was peace and quiet. There were no prying eyes, no judgemental questions and no reason for Castiel to feel under duress. All his worries, all those troubling goings on didn’t matter in here. Castiel felt safe. And for the first time in a long while, he felt as though he was home.

 

* * *

 

 “So you’re done?” Sam asked, leaning in close as he watched Castiel sign off at the bottom of the letter.

“I think so. Can you read through them again? Just to make sure.” Castiel pushed the pile of papers across the desk so he could reach them.

“Sure.” Sam said, taking the first one into hand and scanning over its words.

For the last few hours now, Sam had been helping him try to and decipher Gabriel’s letter. Much to his dismay, they made no progress. Sam had at least been able to offer some input in regards to responding to his brother’s letters. Dean had contributed too, though for the most part he offered rude and frankly creative insults that Castiel could call Michael,  if he so desired. There was no denying that he was tempted, some of them were very fitting, but he could hardly insult his brother and expect to remain in his good books. So much to Dean’s annoyance he omitted them.

“Hey Cas?” Dean called from the other side of the room. Snatching his attention before it could go astray.

Castiel turned in his seat. Dean was splayed out on his bed, arms and legs outstretched as if he had been dropped from a great height. Usually when they were in bed together Dean kept to his side in an attempt to respect Castiel’s space. Lately though, Castiel had noticed a slight change. He didn’t hog the bed or anything like that and Castiel certainly wasn’t in danger of falling off the mattress. Dean just he laid closer than he usually did. Rolled over in his sleep sometimes and even on a couple of occasions had sleepily reached out for him.

“Hm?”

“I was thinking, we could go for a ride later. If you feel like it that is.”

It had been a while since they had gone last and with a fine steed like Inias it would be an awful crime to pass an opportunity to ride him whenever he could. He would have to brave the weather, which was something he wasn’t keen on, the payoff was worth it though so he was leaning towards saying yes.

“That sounds good to me.” He told him with a smile, looking forward to the prospect. “I would like to go to the chapel first though."

Now that he had a proper place of worship he was more inclined to pray more often. He was under no obligation to do so, there were no Oceanic laws that dictated when and how many times he had to pray. But now that he had somewhere nice to pray in, he couldn’t help but indulge in it as much as he could.

“Sounds fair-“

“What about me?” Sam cut in, with a pout. He had finished reading the letters and was watching them with narrowed, accusing eyes.

“What about you?” Dean sat up in bed, a frown on his face. “Ain’t you got better things to do than be a third wheel?”

Sam rose a brow. “I suppose.”  He said, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Once more Castiel felt as though he was being left out, that there was something he was missing in this conversation. He didn’t have time to ask though, as Sam was soon pulling the conversation in a more reasonable direction.

“These look good to me.” He concluded, laying the letters back in front of Castiel.  “I love how in Michael’s letter you manage to be perfectly polite and snarky all at the same time.” He grinned and the corners of his eyes crinkled in the same way that Dean’s did.  “And Gabriel’s is well… If he is as smart as you say he is, he’ll know what you’re getting at.”

Castiel looked down at Gabriel’s letter. He hadn’t called him out on his strange behaviour, he had just gone along with it. He followed his lead and kept things jovial and easy. There was little he could do but wait and see. With luck, and perhaps a little bit of divine intervention, Gabriel’s next letter would be more revealing than the last.

“Good.” He said, carefully folding the letters up one by one. “I’ll have these sent off, go to the chapel for a while and then we can go for a ride.”

It was only early afternoon so it wasn’t as if there was a need for him to rush about. They had plenty of time and it wouldn’t be getting dark until late afternoon. Pushing himself up out of his chair, he shrugged off his blanket and went over to his wardrobe to put on his winter cloak.

“I shan’t be too long.” He assured Dean with a soft smile, liking how Dean returned the gesture without hesitation. “And I’ll see you at dinner.” He said to Sam before he went to open the door.

For the last few weeks now, they had been taking dinner together in Dean’s bedroom. It was easier this way as they didn’t have to make the trek down the hall, not to mention that Sam’s room was only a couple of doors away. Closing the door behind himself, with Benny and Victor following in tow, he made his way to his chapel.

* * *

 

The chapel was an absolute mess.

It looked fine from the outside. But when Victor opened the door for him Castiel couldn’t help but stare in horror at what he saw.

The pews were splintered and broken. The fountain had been ripped out of its stand and tossed to the ground so that its blessed water had spilled out. The painting on the wall were slashed, torn to ribbons. And perhaps worst of all, were the words that were scrawled onto the far wall.

**_DIE YOU SOUTHERNER WHORE_ **

An agonising tightness seized Castiel’s throat, stealing his breath and leaving him gasping for air.  Salty tears sprung to his eyes as a quiet sob escaped his parted lips.

By the Sea Goddess, what had they done? And what were they planning to do to him?

 “Holy Mother of God.” Benny murmured from behind him.

“Benny,” Victor said, his voice as taut as a harp string. “Get his Highness out of here. Now!”

A gentle hand pressed against his forearm. Castiel flinched and yanked his arm away as if the touch burned. He had nothing to fear, it was only Benny. Benny would never hurt him, Dean had promised him that.

“Your Highness, this way please.” He beckoned patiently in his odd but soothing drawl.

“But I- my-“Castiel’s voice shook like a leaf in the wind.

Benny seemed to understand what he was trying to say. He shook his head. “It’s not safe here.”

When Benny placed his hand upon his arm again, he didn’t pull away. Castiel allowed himself to be ushered along, offering no resistance or complaints as he was led inside out of the cold. There was shouting, the sound of boots stomping on stone and the clink of armour and weapons. Servants watched with wide eyes, alarmed by the sudden commotion and the sight of Castiel being led away crying. None tried to interfere or ask what was wrong, wisely they stood back and allowed them to pass. Benny walked quickly, taking short cuts and inadvertently showing Castiel new routes through the castle. Not that he was paying attention, Castiel didn’t have it in him to do so.

Without even knocking, Benny shoved the bedroom door open. They hadn’t been gone long, for a few minutes at most, so Dean and Sam were still in the room. The sudden noise startled them both, making them flinch and send stunned, almost offended looks their way.

“Cas?” In record time Dean leapt off his bed and made his way over to them. His expression was torn between one of concern and distress. “Cas? What’s wrong?”

Castiel didn’t say anything, he just shook his head.

Benny was more than able to handle the situation on his behalf. “There was an… incident at the chapel.” He worded it carefully, doing his best not to distress Castiel anymore than need be. 

“An incident?” Sam was on his feet now, hovering nearby as if he was worried about what might happen if he got too close.

“You should probably go see for yourself Dean.” He suggested grimly, still holding onto Castiel’s arm, supporting him and keeping him upright. “Victor is there now, handling it.”

Dean nodded slowly, taking in the new information. “Thanks. I’ve got it from here.”

Slowly, as not startle him, Benny pulled his hand away and backed up. The door closed quietly behind him and the guard assumed his post outside of the room. Just in case someone was stupid enough to try and follow through with their threat.

“Sam, go tell Dad.”

Sam didn’t offer any resistance, he simply nodded, hurried out of the room and closed the door behind him.  By now it was likely that the King had already been told, by a guard or an adviser probably. But Sam was smart. He knew a dismissal when he heard one. And it was obvious that Castiel clearly wasn’t in the mood for an audience.

“Cas?” Dean hedged, approaching him slowly and regarding him very carefully as if he thought he might crumble to pieces before his eyes.

It wasn’t even cold in the bedroom, the shutters were closed and the fire in the pit had been burning away for hours, and yet Castiel was still shivering. He couldn’t stop himself, he didn’t have the strength or will to do that right now. He just shook his head again, though he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say by it. Was he saying that he wasn’t okay? That he didn’t want to talk to him right now? Or that he just didn’t want to talk about it at all? He really didn’t know the answers to those questions, so he just stood there as still as a statue. Cold and unmoving.

Again, Dean took another cautious step closer. And another, then another till he was standing right in front of him. Close enough that if Castiel wanted to he could have reached out and touched him. He didn’t though. It was as if he didn’t even know that he was there, that he couldn’t feel him.  

 “Cas?” Dean tried again when he didn’t get a response the first time. He ducked his head down a little and tilted his head in an attempt to catch his attention.

Slowly and unwillingly, Castiel’s eyes flickered up.

 He was met with a relieved smile. But it wasn’t the smile that he knew and (secretly) loved. It was too forced and strained and it didn’t meet his eyes in the way that it usually did. His eyes weren’t shinning and bright, they were dull with worry and surely if Castiel had been in a better state he would have felt bad for making Dean worry so much.

 “You okay?”  Dean asked, hoping to get some sort of response.

Ignoring his frankly stupid question, Castiel wordlessly reached out for him and pulled in him close. He clung to him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he hid his face against his chest. He didn’t know _why_ he did it, he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to even try and dissect the reasoning behind his actions, but he knew it felt good. That it made him feel safe. Arms wound around him, holding him close and keeping the trembles at bay. Dean didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask for an explanation and he certainly didn’t refuse him the comfort he so desperately needed. He just held him close, slowly smoothed his hands up and down his back and rested his chin upon his shoulder.

“Shh.” He hushed him softly. “It’s going to be okay Cas.”

* * *

 

There was no way for Castiel to know how long they stood like that, but by the time Dean tentatively pulled away, he felt better. He had long stopped shivering and he could breathe without stuttering and hiccupping pathetically, as if he were a child with no sense of self control. His mind had cleared up too, it was still a little hazy and clouded with that foreboding sense of panic and worry, but he wasn’t blinded by it anymore. It didn’t have complete control over him like it had before.

“You feeling better now?” Dean asked, gently rubbing his hands up and down his forearms.

Castiel sniffed and used his sleeve to wipe the wetness from his eyes. “A little.” He admitted, glad that his voice wasn’t shaking anymore.  His words wouldn’t have been very convincing otherwise.

The corners of Dean’s lips ticked up for a moment in a brief but sweet smile. “You had me worried Cas.” 

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to-”

“I’m going to stop you right there Cas.” He interrupted. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m not going to lie, it sucked seeing you like that. But that’s what I’m here for, to look out for you through thick and thin. ”

 “Okay.” He nodded slowly, allowing his words to sink in.

It hadn’t been his intention to distress him. He had just been running on automatic, his body had been acting out on its own accord without even asking his permission. But still, he was truly glad that Dean wasn’t angry or bitter about it, that he was willing to be there for him when he needed it the most. And to his credit, Dean hadn’t pushed or forced him to explain what had happened. In fact, he hadn’t even tried to bring the topic up even though Castiel was sure that he had to be dying to know what had happened.

Castiel wasn’t sure if he would ever want to talk about it, just thinking about it made his throat tighten and his eyes sting in that horribly familiar way. And yet, he knew that sooner or later he wouldn’t have a choice, that he couldn’t hide from it forever.

 “Come on,” Dean said as he tugged at Castiel’s sleeve, “I don’t know about you but my legs are killing me. Let’s sit.”

Following his lead, Castiel allowed Dean to help him out of his cloak and sat down on the bench by the fire. He didn’t need to be coddled like this, but he knew Dean was doing this because he cared, that he was worried for his welfare. So rather than dismissing him like he normally would have, he allowed him to have his way. Taking another pillow from the bed, Dean puffed it up and motioned for Castiel to lean forward so he could slip it behind him.  He had already just given him two pillows, but apparently that wasn’t enough. Apparently only the best would do.

“There.” Dean said, looking pleased with his handiwork.  “Comfortable?”             

“Very.” He was wrapped up in a blanket and had three pillows after all. It was a little too much, but Castiel wasn’t going to complain.

“Great now how about we get something to -“his words were cut off by sharp knock on the door.

“It’s me.” Victor’s voice announced, stating the obvious.

“Come in.” Dean called, turning to watch the man enter. “What is it?”

“It’s the King, he wants to talk to you about the…” he hesitated for a moment, “the chapel. He wants you to meet him there.”

Castiel wasn’t surprised that the King already knew, a guard or an adviser probably told him as soon as they heard about what happened.  However, he didn’t think that he would personally take any interest in it, let alone want to talk to Dean about it. Once again Castiel was reminded that there was likely a lot more to the King of Winchester than what met the eye. He wasn’t just some warrior who had won his nation through warfare. He was a tactician and a schemer just like every other King that Castiel had met.

“No.” Dean said resolutely, making them both startle. “Tell him I’m busy.”

Victor couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”

“You heard me. I don’t want to leave Cas on own right now.”

“Benny is outside.” He pointed out, gesturing to the door.

“I don’t care, I’m not going.” He insisted stubbornly, sitting down on the bench to prove his point.

“You can go,” Castiel said, placing his hand on Dean’s knee in a placating gesture. “I’ll be all right, Benny’s here.”

Selfishly, he didn’t want him to go. But if the King had asked for him, then they had no choice. Father or not, Dean couldn’t disobey him and expect to get away with it scot-free. So for both of their sakes, he knew that it would be best if Dean acted like a good son and just did as he was told. Besides, Victor was right. Benny was right outside and death threat or no death threat, no one was getting passed him unless Benny wanted them to. Castiel didn’t know him very well, at all really, but he knew for sure that he was more than capable of looking after him. Why else would have Dean tasked him and Victor with looking after him?

Looking down at the hand on his knee, Dean frowned deeply. “Yeah but...” He trailed off, not even bothering to finish off his sentence.  

“But nothing. You need to know what happened. And”, Castiel took in a steadying breath, “and I can’t tell you, so go see for yourself. I’ll be fine, Benny will be here and I can ask Sam and Missouri to stay until you come back.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Of course he wasn’t entirely sure, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. Not when Dean was so close to giving into reason.

“Fine.” He huffed as he got to his feet, making a show of his reluctance. “Victor, get two more guards for the door.” He ordered, waving the guard away angrily.

“Can do.” Victor nodded curtly before leaving the room.

When Dean finally turned to look at Castiel, his expression had changed completely. There was no trace of his former annoyance or agitation. It was open and honest, he wasn’t forcing a smile or pretending to be someone he wasn’t. It wasn’t a grin or a smirk, the smile was relatively small in comparison to those. But it was sweet and for some strange reason it made Castiel feel warm, and not because he was sitting in front of the fire. If he had to compare the feeling to anything, it would like be the tingle of having butterflies in his stomach. This was different though, he wasn’t scared or nervous, he just felt nice.

“I won’t be long.” Dean assured and after waving him goodbye he left the room.

* * *

 

Just as Dean had promised, he wasn’t gone long.

Without even bothering to knock, he stepped into the room and firmly closed the door behind him. It was immediately clear for Castiel to see that his mood was drastically different from earlier. He was tense, shoulders hunched and hands curled into fists at his sides. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Castiel feared that he might crack a tooth if he wasn’t careful. Dean didn’t seem to care about that at all, he just looked so angry, so furious.

In that moment, Castiel realised that he must have seen the chapel and the vindictive words that had been scrawled upon one of its walls. Either that or he had an argument with his Father. He hadn’t seen the dispute with his own eyes, but according to Sam they were a pretty common occurrence these days.

Bracing himself for whatever might happen next, Castiel dragged in a deep and steadying breath. “Sam? Missouri? Could you give us a moment?”

Sam nodded and put down the book he had just been reading.

Like they so often did when they had the time to spare, he and Castiel had been reading together, exchanging opinions and recommending books to each other. It was a simple, wholesome way of spending the afternoon and a much better alternative than having to stew in his own upsetting thoughts.  By then, Castiel was sure that Sam was aware of what happened. But much like his brother, he hadn’t tried to broach the topic.

“Of course, your Highness.” Missouri said soon after, quickly folding up Dean’s shirt and putting it back away in the wardrobe.

Even though Castiel had told her that she didn’t need to, she had insisted on cleaning the room. He often wondered as to whether she actually liked cleaning, and if she did then it would certainly explain why she was so stubborn about it. It was either that, or she was using her tidying as an excuse to keep an eye on him. Not that she really needed one, as he had invited her to the room so it wasn’t like she needed an excuse to stay.

Dean watched them go and only when the door was shut did he speak.

“I swear to you Cas, I will find who did this and make them pay!” Dean declared fervently.

“I know.” He said.

He was just saying that to appease him really. He doubted that they would ever find the perpetrator, and even if Dean miraculously managed to do so, what would that even achieve? The damage had already been done and their message had been received loud and clear. Whoever did this clearly hated him, despised him enough to go to all this effort. And they probably weren’t the only ones who did either. Castiel remembered the way that the locals had stared at him when he had gone shopping the other day, how they had looked at him as though he wasn’t to be trusted. And then there was how some of the courtiers had treated him, they didn’t even try to conceal their disrespect for him. They flaunted it right in front of him as if they suspected he was stupid to notice. He supposed that at the time he didn’t notice, he just passed it off as some sort of game. By the Goddess he had been so blind and so stupid. Frankly, it was surprising that something like this hadn’t happened earlier, that they had waited all this time to finally make their move.

The floorboards creaked and Castiel slowly looked up to see Dean looking down at him with worry in his eyes. All that anger that had been burning within him a moment ago had simmered down into a small, but controllable flame.

 “It’s not true, what they said.” Dean told him, his voice soothing and gentle. “I know you’re not like that.”

Not for one moment had Castiel considered himself a whore, he had never even kissed someone before his wedding day, let alone had sex. So he wasn’t worried about that at all, if anything he was relieved that Dean had dismissed their allegation without even hesitating. As if he didn’t, surely their marriage would be trouble for many, many reasons. And yet, Castiel couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to cause people to hate him so much? Was it just because he was an outsider? Or was it something that he had done? Had he angered someone without meaning to? And if so, who?

“I know.” Castiel said again.  

Dean nodded, placated by his words. He breathed in deep and let out a long, windy sigh. “So, still feel liking going out for that ride?” He joked, nudging him a little as he sunk down onto the seat beside him.

Castiel huffed in amusement and shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow.” He suggested, glad that at least for now they were putting this conversation to rest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.s for the sake of this fic , it only took the builders a month or so to build the chapel. Realistically it would take them about 6-8 months (and that's if they were really hurrying). So let’s just say the builders in Winchester are hella skilled and quick.
> 
> HUGGING?!!? PHYSICAL AFFECTION? WHAT AM I DOING?


	11. Chapter 11

“Dean, I said no.” Castiel insisted, as he paced back and forth across the room like angry cat.

Perhaps he was being a little unreasonable, petulant even, but after everything that happened he firmly believed that he had every right to be. Besides, what had Dean expected?  That Castiel would eagerly put himself out there as if someone hadn’t (more or less) threatened to kill him? No way, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 

Dean had promised him that he was doing everything in his power to keep him safe and Castiel wholeheartedly believed him. However, the same couldn’t be said about his claims on how the investigation was going. According to Dean, it was going very well so far. Not only had they found pieces of evidence at the scene of the crime, but they had also managed to locate several reliable witnesses who claimed to have seen a hooded figure running away from the chapel with an axe in hand. At first Castiel thought that Dean had been stretching the truth a little in an attempt to put his worries to rest. But when Dean had showed him the written report as proof, the one that was to be handed to the King, Castiel’s doubts vanished.

 “You can’t not come.” Dean reasoned calmly, despite the fact they had been bickering about this for the last twenty minutes. In those last twenty minutes he was supposed to have been getting dressed for court and yet all he had managed to do was sit down on the end of the bed and take off his old muddy boots.

Castiel’s scowled at the truth of his words. “Tell them I’m unwell, indisposed.”

“It’ll look bad if you don’t show, people will talk.”

Again Dean was right, and Castiel hated that he was. By now, there was no doubt that the incident at the chapel was a popular topic of conversation amongst the courtiers. Only those who were directly involved in the investigation were aware of the details and goings on of the investigation. But that was just a minor technicality, so it wouldn’t stop rumours spreading like wildfire and passing from one person to the next until they transformed into vicious and cruel lies. And so, if Castiel didn’t attend court today it would only give the courtiers more reasons to believe that their rumours were true and that he did indeed have something to hide.

But on the other hand, Castiel knew that if he were to attend the party then the courtiers would latch onto him like hungry leeches and pester him with endless questions and their false sympathies. It went without saying that he wasn’t in the mood for that, he didn’t want to smile and pretend that he was grateful for their attentions, especially when, in all likelihood, they were slagging him off right behind his back.

Castiel was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he didn’t go people would talk about him, but if he did go people would talk _to_ him. By the Goddess, he wasn’t sure which option was worse.

“Fine.” He huffed, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.  “I’ll go.” Then an idea occurred to him, one that had the possibility of making his evening bearable, maybe even enjoyable. “However, I have one condition.”

“Yeah?” Dean said, watching him curiously as if he couldn’t quite believe that Castiel had finally given in. “I’m all ears.”

Ignoring odd comment about his ears, Castiel continued undeterred.  “I’ll go to court if you stay with me, for at least the majority of the time.”

He didn’t expect Dean to stick to his side constantly, he wasn’t that demanding, but he didn’t want to be abandoned like last time either. Dean had said that he would be gone for a while, those were his exact words, and yet somehow a while had managed to develop into several, long hours in which he spent getting drunk and being merry with his friends.

Dean nodded slowly whilst he considered the offer. “And this has nothing to do with me getting plastered last time, right?”

 “No.” He assured, feeling slightly amused that Dean was still worrying about that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal then.” He announced with a grin and got to his feet. Stepping across the room, barefooted, he offered out his hand so that Castiel could shake on it.

It was a childish gesture really, after all Castiel was willing to just have his word because he knew Dean would stay true to it. But when Dean looked at him like that he really couldn’t help but go along with him and his silly ways. So he shook his hand and maybe held onto his hand a little longer than what was considered socially acceptable. Not that Dean seemed to mind, because he didn’t call him out on it and he didn’t pull away either.

Reluctantly, after a few more moments Castiel pulled away. “We should be getting dressed then.” He said, knowing that they wouldn’t have long till someone came knocking.

* * *

 

“It’s disgusting if you ask me.” Some tubby noble proclaimed, even though neither Dean nor Castiel had asked for his opinion. “Vandalising a chapel that belongs to a Prince no less! They should be hung, no, hung drawn and quartered!”

Dean watched the noble with wry amusement, as if he couldn’t care less about what he was saying.  “And you’re absolutely right. Anyway, it’s been great talking to you,” he said abruptly, “enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Castiel couldn’t help but stare in disbelief as Dean tugged him through the throngs of people and away from the man, who was watching them go with a look of tipsy annoyance. The noble, Castiel still couldn’t remember his name, didn’t say anything of course. But still, Dean couldn’t go around being rude to the members of his Father’s court and not expect some sort of repercussion.

Grinning, Dean nudged his side. “Come on, don’t tell me you weren’t getting bored too? He’s always been like that, he’d talk your ear off if you let him.”

“Well yes.” Castiel admitted, frowning a little. “But you said he was important, it doesn’t seem wise to annoy him unnecessarily.”

“He’s important, but not _that_ important. He owns a couple of farms in the west, has a fair bit of money but he’s nothing to write home about.”

Castiel nodded in understanding.  When he had first arrived here, his knowledge of politics and courtly matters had been limited at best. Even back in Oceania he hadn’t been very well versed in them, because they simply weren’t topics that he had any interest in. But now, as his circumstances had changed dramatically he had no choice but to pick things up as he went along. At first it seemed a daunting and impossible task, but with the various books in the library and the assistance of Sam and Dean he was slowly coming to grasp with it bit by bit.

“You see that guy there?” Dean asked him, coming to a stop and pointing subtly through the crowd to a man who was on the far side of the room. “That’s Gordon, avoid him if you can. He’s a dick, but he’s rich and has connections so he can get away with it.”

“And what about that one?”  

Following Castiel’s line of sight, Dean frowned deeply and his eyes narrowed in obvious disgust. “That’s Alistair. Don’t talk to him. At all.”

Castiel had a feeling that he shouldn’t ask why, but once more his impulsiveness got the better of him. “Why not?”

“He’s dangerous.”

It wasn’t that Castiel didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Dean felt that way. Going by appearances, Alistair didn’t look all that dangerous. He was just a man who was getting on in years, if his grey stubble and wrinkles were anything to go by. The same applied for Gordon, he did look rather grumpy but there was nothing about him that made Castiel automatically assume that he was, as Dean put it, a dick. However, he knew that looks were deceiving and that if Dean warned him to stay away from them, then it was probably for the best.  

 “Is there anyone else I should avoid?” Castiel asked, thinking it was a good idea to ask now that they were on the topic.

 “Well it depends on what you mean, if you don’t want to get schmoozed to death I’d avoid-“his words suddenly tumbled to a stop as Dean stared wide eyed at the woman before him. “Lisa?” He said, his voice raising several octaves in surprise.

 “Your Highnesses.” She greeted and curtsied with perfect composure.

To put it simply, Lisa was beautiful in every sense of the word. She was young and fresh faced, a perfect woman if Castiel had ever seen one. She was the sort that men would lust after and beg for her hand in marriage, whilst other women would look on with envy, but secretly wish that they could be exactly like her. Her attire made it obvious that she was from a family with incredible wealth, in fact she was dressed so nicely that if he hadn’t known better he would have just assumed that she was royalty.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you again, not after what happened. God that was such a mess.” Dean shook his head as if he were trying to rid himself of the memory.

Lisa’s smile was wistful but understanding. “I know. Father is still furious at the King, but I don’t blame you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Perhaps Castiel was being nosey, listening into what was obviously a personal conversation, but he couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about. What did they expect? There were having this discussion right in front of him, if they didn’t want him to listen surely they could take it somewhere private.  What had happened? And why did Lisa’s Father blame the King? And most pressingly of all, what didn’t she blame Dean for? All of these questions swirled around in his head and the more he thought about it the more confused he got. It was obvious that they were more than simple acquaintances. Friends? Or maybe something even more. No, Castiel didn’t like the last option. The thought tasted bitter like over ripened fruit and coloured his thoughts in an ugly shade of green.

“Good ‘cause you know I didn’t ask for-“

Castiel ahem’d loudly, cutting off Dean midsentence. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” He asked, looking at him with narrowed, accusing eyes.

Dean watched him for a moment and his confusion was plainly written on his face. It wasn’t entirely fair of Castiel to be so rude to him, or Lisa for that matter, but in that moment he couldn’t have cared less. He just knew that he had to say something, anything to stop them from making eyes at each other.

“Yeah, sorry. Cas, this is Lady Lisa Braeden, an old friend. Lisa, this is my husband, Prince Castiel of Oceania.” He introduced, gesturing to each of them in turn.

 “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He muttered, clearly not as keen as she was.

For a moment Castiel thought that Dean would scold him, after all it wouldn’t have been the first time he had called him out or being, in his words, an ass.  Or that he would at least send another confused look his way. But he didn’t, in fact he didn’t even say anything and he wasn’t even looking at him _or_ Lisa. He was too busy staring across the room at someone or something. Following his line of sight, Castiel realised that it was Benny and that the guard was motioning for Dean to come over. As to what he wanted Castiel could only guess, but if his expression told him anything it was that this was probably a serious matter and one that Dean had to tend to immediately.

“Will you guys be okay on your own for a bit? I need to go and see what Benny wants.”  He said, already taking a step in that direction.

“Dean-” Castiel began to protest as he instinctively followed him for a couple of steps.

“I know what I said.” Dean cut him off, though not unkindly. “But this might be important Cas, I have to go see what he wants. Don’t worry, I won’t be long and Lisa will be with you the whole time, right?”

“Of course.”

As much as he would have liked them to, Dean’s words didn’t reassure him. The small, rational voice in his head told him that he was being petty, and that despite his confusing, ugly feelings Lisa hadn’t wronged him in any way. But none of that made any difference, he couldn’t help but dislike her even when he knew had no real reason to.

Castiel folded his arms across his chest. “Right.”

With a fleeting, but tender touch to the small of Castiel’s back, Dean turned his back on them and began to make his way over to Benny, who was still waiting impatiently by the doorway.

* * *

“So, how long have you known Dean?” It wasn’t that Castiel cared, because he didn’t. He really didn’t. But standing in awkward silence was a more undesirable option than at least trying to make small talk.

“Years.” Lisa told him. “We got betrothed-“  

If Castiel had been drinking he would have surely spat it out all over her pretty dress. Betrothed?  What? Well that certainly explained a lot of things. There had been an odd sense of familiarity between the two of them, a sort of intimacy that he had been unable (and unwilling) to put his finger on. But those nagging thoughts in his head had been right all along, there was certainly more than a simple friendship between them, they had been engaged for Goddess sake!

“When I was around six.” She finished, completely unaware of Castiel’s inner turmoil. “Our Father’s arranged the whole thing. Dean was not happy at all, said that he’d rather marry a goat.” She laughed at the memory, despite Dean’s rather crude insult. “But we grew up together, realised that we didn’t have a choice, that we could have had it a lot worse.”

“Oh I see.” Castiel said, his relief palpable. He had misread the situation. Good.  “But the two of you didn’t get married, is that why your Father is angry with the King?”

“Yes. He refuses to come to court, or to respond to Dean’s letters. And when he heard that Dean had married you, well it only added insult to injury.”

“He does not approve?”

Lisa was quiet and her expression thoughtful, as if she were trying to think of the kindest way of putting it.  “No, but I wouldn’t take it to heart your Highness, my Father is too stubborn for his own good.”

Castiel hadn’t even met the man, but even so he could understand why he was so bitter about it. Years of preparation and planning had gone to waste simply because the King had changed his mind. And then to further add salt to the wound Dean was married to a Prince from a nation, that in all likelihood, he had never even heard of before. But why? Lisa seemed to be the perfect match, not only was she a beautiful and healthy young lady, but she would no doubt have a massive dowry to her name. What would make the King decide that Castiel was the better match than her? Because the way he saw it, he certainly wasn’t.

“And no one else sought his hand in marriage?” He asked, unable to believe that other families wouldn’t try and take advantage of the situation.

“Oh no, hundreds did. Before he left for Oceania he was most eligible bachelor in the entire continent.”

The corner of Castiel’s lips ticked up in a smirk. “I bet he loved that.”

“Don’t tell him, but I think that’s more to do with him being a Prince. He could have two heads and a tail and someone out there would still have considered him eligible.” Lisa laughed and Castiel couldn’t help but join her.

Now that Castiel had gotten over _that_ issue, he was quickly beginning to like Lisa and he could easily see why Dean was so fond of her too. She was kind and witty, but she was also courteous, though not so much that she was demure in that bland sort of way.

“But no,” she said, becoming serious. “Dean is a good man. He cares for you a great deal.”

“I know.” Castiel told her, he would have been blind if hadn’t noticed that by now, after everything that Dean had done for him.

“Cas?” A familiar voice called out as the crowds once more parted and again the nobles bowed and said their respects.

It was Sam and he was followed in tow by a pretty blonde who seemed to be around his age , maybe a bit younger.

“Where’s Dean?” He asked, but then noticed Lisa. “Oh hey Lisa!  I didn’t know you were back at court.”

“I just came back today, and your brother is talking with Benny. Not sure where they went though,” she turned and looked to the doorway. Neither Dean nor Benny were in sight. “But he should be back soon.”

“Who’s this?” Castiel asked as he gestured to the girl by Sam’s side.

“This is Lady Jessica Moore.” Sam introduced with flourish and a grin on his face.

  “Sam stop it!” She shoved him, but did not try to stifle her laughter. “Please call me Jess, your Highness, my mum calls me Jessica. And that’s only when she’s mad.”

“Only if you call me Castiel, or Cas. I don’t mind which.  And the same goes for you Lisa.” He said, looking at Jess and Lisa in turn.

Even though he had only just met Jess and Lisa he felt as though it was the right thing to do. They were friends of Sam and Dean and so by extension they were his friends too. Or at least there was a potential for them to be. Never in his life had he been interested in being social and making friends, but it was actually rather thrilling and he wondered if it would be something he would get better at with time. Earlier Castiel had found the mere thought of attending court and socialising nauseating, but other than the few unwelcome nobles, who had been promptly chased away by Dean, he was actually having a good time. And as he spoke to his new found friends, and Sam, all his worries about death threats and the vandalism of his chapel were a distant and faded memory.

Or at least that was the case until Dean reappeared in the grand hall.

* * *

 

“Cas I need to talk to you, now please.” Dean requested as soon as he came into hearing range. Whatever it was had to be urgent as he didn’t even bother to spare the others a look, let alone greet them.

 “Of course.”

Hurriedly, Dean guided Castiel out of the room. Benny was once more standing by the doorway, but as soon as they got close enough the guard fell into step behind them. Castiel wasn’t sure where they were going, but he imagined that it would be somewhere quiet, somewhere they wouldn’t have to worry about prying eyes and ears.  

They had been quickly walking down the corridor for a few moments when Dean came to a sudden a stop outside of a plain wooden door. It was inconspicuous, the sort of door that Castiel had never even noticed before, let alone wondered what was on the other side. It would serve its purpose nicely then.

“Cas, in here.” Dean said as he pulled a key out of his pocket, jammed it into the old lock and with a bit of effort, turned it. Pushing the door open with one hand, Dean then turned to the guard and handed him the key for safekeeping. “Benny, keep watch outside.”

 “Can do boss.” The guard nodded, and once they were both in he closed the door behind them.

The room in question was less of a room and more of a storage cupboard.  Other than the space by the door, there wasn’t much room left for them to stand in. Boxes were stacked against the walls, as were tatty rugs and a couple of three legged chairs. Most of the items being stored away in here were in pretty bad condition and might as well have been thrown away. But it seemed as though no one had gotten around to doing that yet, or for some reason someone had deliberately asked them not to. Either way it didn’t matter at the moment as there were far more pressing issues at hand.

“Dean , what’s wrong?” Castiel asked, taking a step closer to Dean so that there was only a little gap between them.

 “We’ve got him Cas.”

Castiel blinked in confusion. “What? Got who?”

“Him, the fuckwit who screwed with your chapel, we’ve finally caught him!” Dean was full on grinning now and if Castiel hadn’t been in such a state of shock it surely would have been contagious.

Castiel just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not because he thought that Dean was lying, but because he had been so certain that they would never find out who did it, let alone capture him within the space of a few days. After all, looking for one faceless man in a city as big as Lawrence was just as difficult as searching for a tiny vessel floating aimlessly in the open ocean. The odds were innumerably stacked against them, and yet Dean and his guards had somehow managed the impossible.

 Relief swept through Castiel like the incoming tide and in one fell swoop it drowned his worries and concerns, before dragging them to the deepest bottom of the ocean. There were so many questions that needed to be asked, so many answers that Castiel needed to know, but for now he just wanted to revel in the moment. To take the time to just feel happy and safe. He of course wasn’t naïve enough to think that everything was fine and dandy now, as he knew that there was still an abundance of people who shared the vandal’s point of view. But with the way Castiel saw it, as long as he had Dean by his side this was an issue they would be able to overcome, together.

“I don’t know what to say.” Castiel admitted with shrug, still in utter disbelief.

“Thank you would be a good place to start.” Dean suggested offhandedly.

Castiel knew that Dean was playing with him, since he had that tell-tale turn to his lips and gleam in his eyes. But even so, he brought up a valid point. After all the time and effort he had put into capturing the vandal and ensuring that Castiel was as safe, it was only right that Castiel show him gratitude. He wanted to thank him, Goddess knows that he did, but simply uttering those two words didn’t seem adequate. Talk was cheap and it was so easy to say something without meaning it.

So Castiel showed his gratitude in the most honest way he could think of, he hugged him.

Like last time he didn’t give Dean any warning, he stepped in close and wrapped his arms around him. But this time there wasn’t any sense of urgency or panic, he was holding him because he wanted to, not because he felt that if he didn’t he would fall apart at the seams.

 “Thank you.” He murmured as he leaned up close against him.

A familiar pair of hands settled on his hips and even though Castiel couldn’t see Dean’s face, he could easily hear the smile in his voice. “You’re welcome.”

“Hmm.” Castiel hummed, because honestly he didn’t have anything to add to that and he didn’t want to ruin the moment with needless conversation.

A comfortable silence settled over them and as the moments ticked by Castiel began to wonder when it would be appropriate to pull back. He was very comfortable where he was, so he didn’t really want to. But displays of affection like this surely had a set duration. They couldn’t go on for too long, otherwise things got awkward, right? And yet Dean hadn’t moved away one bit, if anything he was holding him tighter as if he didn’t want this moment to end.

Castiel peered up in search of some sort of visual cue, but all he was met with was Dean’s piercing gaze. His head was bowed down a little, lips parted and cheeks pink. He was frowning deeply, as if something of great importance was on his mind and he was building up to some great crescendo. His eyes flickered down and his tongue darted out and wetted his lips.

Castiel had never been one for reading body language but even he was getting Dean’s message loud and clear. There was no denying that Castiel had thought about it before, but thinking about it in passing was one thing. Noticing how plump and soft his lips were was completely and utterly different than carefully inching forward so that they could kiss.

And yet here Castiel was unable to stop himself.

“Cas.” Dean whispered, as he ever so gently cupped his cheek.

They were so close now, just a little bit more -

Suddenly there was a heavy knock on the door. Both of them leapt back as if they had been zapped by lightning and with reddening cheeks they turned and stared at the door.

“What?” Dean snapped, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“It’s Sam and Jessica.” Benny announced after a moment silence. “You want me to tell them to go?”

He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “No we’ll be out, give us a minute. You doing okay Cas?”

No matter how much he thought about it he couldn’t figure out how a hug had managed to get so complicated in the space of a few moments. By no means did he regret it, in fact he would be more than willing to try again, at a better time and location of course. But despite all of that, he still couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed and awkward with how suddenly they had been interrupted. At least no one had actually walked in, that would have been far worse.

  “Of course.” Castiel said, clearing his throat to regain some well needed decorum.

“Good. Uh, we should get going, otherwise they’ll probably think…” Dean hesitated for a moment. “You know…”

He simply nodded and proceeded to follow Dean out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Benny are such cockblocks. 
> 
> P.s there is soooo much DRAMA ahead. I was going to start it in this chapter but then I wouldn't have finished it time and bla bla bla. Woes of being a slow writer.
> 
>  


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence and minor character death up ahead!

After days of thought, Castiel had come to the conclusion that emotions were not only difficult, but also highly overrated. They never remained consistent for long as they fluctuated back and forth, leaving him in a constant state of frustrated confusion. It was as if he were lost in a giant maze and no matter how long he wandered along the narrow pathways he always found himself right back where he had started.

On one hand, Castiel liked the idea of having something more with Dean, of taking their relationship to a whole new level as it meant that he would be able to kiss and touch him whenever and however he liked. And that he wouldn’t have to keep supressing and denying those thoughts that passed into his mind whenever he looked at Dean for a moment too long. For once in his life he would be able to be honest to himself, to reach out and finally take the incentive to get what he wanted, rather than waiting around and hoping someone did it for him. 

On the other hand he was very hesitant about it all. Castiel, like many Oceanians, was a creature of habit. He craved stability and after finding his niche here in Lawrence he was very reluctant to let things change. Even if it was for the better. He liked how simple things were between him and Dean, they were friends, nothing more and nothing less. He didn’t want to overcomplicate it with feelings and emotions, especially not when things were so tense. And then, worst of all, was the fact that he was absolutely terrified that Dean would shoot him down. What if he had read him wrong? What if Dean denied him and claimed that it had all been a horrible misunderstanding?

But then Castiel would think of Dean’s kind smile, his handsome face and the way he touched him whenever he could and would be thrown back into the never-ending cycle of wanting him, but being too scared to do anything about it.

His indecisiveness truly was infuriating.

He had thought that taking a walk up on the castle ramparts would help clear his mind, that the fresh crisp air would do him some good and the wonderful view of the city would grant him with a new perspective on the whole situation. But it hadn’t and he was just as stuck as he had been before, if not more so.

“What’s wrong?” A familiar, grumbling voice asked, making Castiel flinch a little in surprise. He turned and to his left he noticed Benny leaning against the low wall beside him, as if they were old friends rather than a guard and his ward. Not that he minded as he was fairly used to Benny’s relaxed demeanour. “You cold?”

“No, just thinking.”

“Ahh, Dean said you’d still be mad about that.” Benny drawled as he nodded pointedly to the castle courtyard.

So they had been gossiping about him? That didn’t really come as a surprise as they did spend a fair amount of time together. What was he supposed to be mad about though? Following his line of sight, Castiel peered down at the bustling courtyard below. Even on the quietest of days it was always busy, but today it was even more so than usual. Construction workers hurried about, lugging along planks of wood and assembling them into a tall platform. It took him a moment to realise what the guard was implying, but when he did he couldn’t help but frown.

When the vandal had been caught Castiel had been overjoyed and thought that everything would be smooth sailing from there on out.  That he would be tried and charged for his crimes and then everyone could move on with their lives. But of course, nothing was ever that simple. Castiel knew he would be punished and in a way he wanted him to suffer for all the pain and distress that he had caused. But never had he ever thought that the King would charge him for treason, let alone sentence him to a painful and humiliating death. He would have understood if the man had tried to hurt him, or made an attempt on his life. But did a bit of vandalism warrant his death? No.

And so Castiel had asked Dean about it, thinking that he would be able to shed some light on this whole issue. But instead Dean had simply shot him down before he could even properly get his point across. He was adamant that the execution was going to go ahead this afternoon whether Castiel wanted it to or not.

“You can’t avoid him forever.” Benny told him knowingly, when he realised that Castiel wasn’t going to respond.

Castiel sighed deeply, all of this was just so tiring. “I don’t want to.”

“He has his reasons you know? He’s not being a dick because he wants to be, you know him better than that, your Highness.”

Castiel knew what Benny was doing here, he was trying to defend and justify his friend’s actions, but even so the man was making a very valid point.  Castiel was certain that Dean would never be cruel or mean to him for the sake of it, or just because he wanted to. That just wasn’t the sort of man that he was. He was much, much better than that, which was one of the many reasons as to why Castiel was so enamoured with him.

“I know.” He agreed and pushed himself away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go back inside, I need to get changed.”

And so the two of them made their way down the winding tower stairs and back into the dimly lit halls of the castle.

 

* * *

This was it then, the vandal only a few more minutes to live and breathe. 

The scaffolding had been set up and both peasants and nobles were arriving in droves into the castle courtyard.  A large crowd was forming by front of the platform and from his sitting place Castiel could see people pushing and shoving in an attempt to get to the front of the crowd so that they could get the best view. All of this felt wrong, it didn’t feel like an execution, like someone was going to die. There was no lingering sense of foreboding in the air and people were chatting excitedly, as if they were about to watch a pantomime show, not a man being hanged, drawn and quartered.

Back in Oceania executions were quiet. There were no crowds, only a select few were expected to be present. The prisoner, along with a few witnesses would be taken out to sea on a boat, where he would have a large, heavy rock chained to his before being thrown overboard. By no means was it pleasant to watch, but there was a dignity in their death. They were returned to Sea Goddess, not tortured, killed and then put on display in front of a cheering audience.

It was barbaric and yet no one other than himself seemed to be bothered by it.

“What’s taking them so long?” The King grumbled, drumming his fingers against the arm of his throne.

Sam merely shrugged and looked back down at the book he had perched on his lap. It was obvious that, like Castiel, he didn’t want to be here. But unlike him, he seemed rather used to it. Perhaps it was a cultural thing after all, or maybe not. There was no way he was going to ask about it right now, not when things were so tense.

 “Want me to go and check?” Dean asked, always eager to please his Father.

“If you want.”

Nodding curtly, he got out of his chair and hurried down the balcony stairs with a couple of guards in tow, just in case.

Silence fell upon the three of them as they waited for Dean to return with some news. In the past few minutes the crowd had grown even larger, to the point where Castiel wasn’t sure if they would be able to fit any more people into the courtyard. There were more than enough guards standing about to keep the situation under control if need be , not that Castiel thought anything would happen as they all seemed eager and raring to get the show on the road.

A few moments later, Dean jogged up the stairs and retook his seat beside Castiel. “They’re coming now.” He told the King. “He’s kicking up some fuss, didn’t want to leave his cell.”

 “Good. Let’s just get this-” His words were drowned out by a sudden loud voice.

“Please! No, listen! It wasn’t me, I swear to God it wasn’t me!” The voice cried out, loud enough to be heard over the noisy chattering of the crowd.

Leaning forward in his seat, Castiel watched as the vandal came into view. He was dragged out into the courtyard, struggling and fighting against the guards as if he were a stubborn mule who just wouldn’t do as it was told. Such as reaction wasn’t at all surprising, after all the man was being led to a very painful death. However, the same couldn’t be said for the appearance of the vandal. He was much, _much_ younger than Castiel had imagined him to be. He wasn’t some gruff looking criminal with evil eyes and an angry expression, he was young and wiry and he looked absolutely terrified.

“My Lords!” He shouted, squirming so much that he managed to wrench his arm free. “I swear on my Mother’s life I didn’t-”the guard managed to grab a hold of him again and shoved him towards the scaffold stairs. “I wouldn’t!”

The crowd roared in excitement, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfold and yet Castiel’s blood ran cold. He was just a boy and they were going to… By the Goddess he felt sick. He couldn’t watch, for if he did surely he would pass out. Or at least throw up.

 

 Despite the prisoner’s resistance the guards, in due time, managed to shove him up the stairs and onto the platform. It was only when he was in position, beside the hooded executioner, did the King get up off his throne. The whole crowd fell silent and even the prisoner had stopped his babbling so that he could listen to what their King had to say.

“Matthew Pike.” John called, looking straight down at the boy on the platform. “You are sentenced to death for the crime of treason. Do you have any last words?”

Glancing between the executioner and the King, Matthew nodded feebly. “I’m sorry -“his voice was weak and barely audible so he cleared his throat and tried again. “But I didn’t do it! I was always loyal to you and your family. You have to believe me my lord!” He was crying now, tears spilled down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. “You have to!”

If Matthew thought that his heartfelt words would save him, then he was wrong. The King simply nodded in acceptance and waved his hand, giving the executioner permission to proceed.

“Your Majesty.” Dean said hurriedly, getting to his feet so that he could stand beside his Father. He leaned in close and muttered words that Castiel couldn’t quite hear. But he was talking quickly, fervently, as if he were pleading the boy’s case.

Was he persuading his Father to spare the boy? To give him a lesser punishment, one that was suiting for his crime? This was the Dean that Castiel knew and cared for, he was kind and forgiving.  He would never allow this boy to die, not when his protests of innocence seemed so genuine. If Sam’s expression said anything, then he had to agree with Castiel here. He had seen the surprise on the younger Prince’s face when they had brought Matthew out. He too had assumed that the vandal was someone deserving of death, not some boy who looked as though he would never be capable of such a thing.

 “Fine, only if you do it.” John huffed, before looking back at the platform and calling out. “Wait.”

The executioner, who had been getting his various bits of equipment ready, paused and the crowd murmured curiously. Was he calling the whole thing off? Was Matthew free to go? Stepping away from the King, Dean spared Castiel a very brief look.  It was so short that if he hadn’t been paying close attention surely he wouldn’t have noticed it. But he did and he wasn’t reassured by what he saw. Dean’s eyes were narrowed, his shoulders squared and his jaw tense, as if he were biting down hard.  Whatever he was about to do or say, it wasn’t something that he was looking forward to. At all.

Heading down the balcony steps again, Dean marched across the courtyard towards the scaffolding and climbed its stairs. Matthew didn’t seem sure where to look, one moment he was staring up at the King, as if he were expecting some sort explanation. The other he was watching Dean as he approached, his head tilted slightly in question.

 “Kneel.” Dean ordered, as he gestured for one of the guards to give him their sword.

“What?!”

“I said kneel.” He held the sword in his hand now and gripped it tightly with a closed fist.

Matthew knew better than to argue with a Prince, especially when he was speaking with such a sharp tone, so he shakily got to his knees. “Please don’t.”

Dean shook his head and said something softly, though Castiel couldn’t make out what.

The boy, seemingly reassured by his quiet words, nodded weakly and closed his eyes. By no means did he want this, but it seemed as though he had resigned himself to his unfortunate fate.

Everything after that all happened so quickly.

One moment Matthew had been kneeling there, quaking like a leaf in the wind but still alive and breathing. The next Dean took a step to the side and raised his sword, there was a flash of sliver and then slice. It was a clean cut. No pain, no suffering. Just quick and sudden. The boy’s head thumped to the floor and rolled a couple of feet before his body slumped down as well. Blood pooled around the stump of his neck, reddening the wooden planks of the platform. The crowd roared and cheered as if this was a moment worth celebrating, as if the barbaric show had come to a climax. Wordlessly Dean handed the bloodied sword to the executioner and made his way back down the stairs. He was done and it was obvious that he didn’t want to hang around any longer than he needed to.  

“Castiel.” Dean said once he was back up on the balcony. “Let’s go.”

Blinking, Castiel dragged his gaze away from the platform. They were clearing things away now, dragging Matthew’s body away as if it were a sack of potatoes and throwing down saw dust to absorb the spilt blood. “Pardon?” He asked, having not heard him the first time.

“Come on.” Dean impatiently gestured for him to follow.

Pushing himself up out of his chair, he nodded weakly. He wasn’t sure where Dean planned on going or what he wanted, but as things were now it was probably best that he simply followed his lead and did as he was told.

* * *

 

Even from his position on the bench by the fire Castiel could clearly see the flecks of blood on Dean’s clothing. They were small, bright red and contrasted sharply with the white material of his shirt. He’d have to throw it away, after all stains like that were always difficult to get out. It was funny that such an insignificant thing bothered him, especially after what had just happened, but it did and he couldn’t help but stare at Dean as he rid himself of his dirty shirt.

When Dean finished changing, he threw his dirty shirt to the floor, slumped down onto the opposite bench and stretched his legs out in the space between the seat and the table. Despite his somewhat relaxed posture, his expression was grim and his eyes were tight. Whatever was on his mind, it certainly wasn’t a pleasant topic.

 “Come on, spit it out.” Dean finally said after a long moment of silence.

“What do you want me to say? Thank you?”

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “You know why I did it, right?”

“Because the King told you to?” He guessed, though he wasn’t sure now that he thought about it.

“They were going to torture him Cas. He would have died screaming and I couldn’t...”He took in a deep, steadying breath and continued on as best as he could. “I didn’t want you to see that, so I stepped in. I’m good at what I do, it was quick, he didn’t feel a thing.”

Castiel was silent as he took all of it in. “Do you really think he did it?” He asked eventually, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“No” Dean said, “I don’t.”

Dean’s words weren’t at all reassuring. It meant that whoever had vandalised his chapel was, in all likelihood, still at large. And that they had just executed an innocent man and for what? To entertain the locals? To get a message across?  Castiel had never been safe, he had just been lulled into a false sense of security. It was no wonder that Dean had been so short-tempered yesterday, all because he knew that they were going to kill an innocent man and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Why?”

Dean shifted a little in his chair, as if he were trying to get comfortable but couldn’t quite manage to. “It was all too convenient. All the evidence we needed was right at his house, it wasn’t even hidden. It was just there, waiting to be found. The eyewitness accounts were exactly the same. And come on, did he look like the sort of guy who could swing an axe like that? No. Someone set him up and we have no idea who the fuck did it or why.”

 “What will you do then?”

He shrugged with heavy shoulders. “What can I do? I’ve got shit to go on. All I can do is sit on my ass and hope they don’t do anything stupid.” 

This was such a massive burden for Dean to carry and it was completely unfair. He tried so hard and yet despite all of his efforts to keep Castiel safe in the end it amounted to nothing. Castiel was at the mercy of his enemies who, for all Dean knew, were plotting all sorts of horrific things behind his back. And still there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Getting up from his seat, Castiel walked around the table and sat down right next to Dean. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he took a hold of his hand and slid his fingers between Dean’s. It was true that he was attracted to him and that he had thought about doing this more often than he would like to admit, but that wasn’t what this was about. He wanted to comfort Dean, to let him know that he would be by his side through thick and thin, just as he had promised on the altar. It was true that they had been forced to make those marriage vows, but by no means did that make them any less true.

“We’ll work something out, you’ll see.” He promised, forcing a reassuring smile onto his face.

  “You really think so?” Dean asked as he looked down at their interlinked hands. There was a slight twist to his lips, as if despite himself he liked what he saw.

Castiel gave his hand a squeeze. “I do.”

“Maybe things aren’t so bad then.” Dean said, as he leaned comfortably against Castiel’s side and gave his hand a soft squeeze in return.

* * *

 

Sinking down to his knees, Castiel closed his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands together. It had been days since he had last prayed and in light of yesterday’s events it only seemed right for him to do so.

The chapel, much to Castiel’s relief, looked almost exactly as it had done before. All evidence of the vandalism was gone, as if nothing had even happened in the first place. The cruel words that had been scrawled onto the wall were covered with cement, the broken pews had been repaired and all of the silver and gold trinkets that had been stolen were replaced. Everything looked as it should and yet Castiel couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been tainted, corrupted by some unforeseeable evil.

He of course continued to use it, after all it would be rude not to, but as he prayed to the Sea Goddess he couldn’t help but worry about daggers hiding in the shadows.

Suddenly there was a sharp knocking on the door and Castiel nearly toppled off his knees in surprise.

“Cas? You decent?”

“Oh, yes. Come in.”  He said as he got to his feet and straightened up his clothes.

The chapel door opened with a loud groan and Dean stepped into the room.  Without even needing to be asked he closed the door behind him and began tugging off his boots so that he could put them on the floor beside Castiel’s. “I’ve got some letters for you.”

Castiel hadn’t even noticed the letters tucked beneath his arm. “Who from?”

“No clue, they’re not mine to open.”

Once Dean managed to yank his boots off, he walked over and handed Castiel the letters. There were two of them and both were stamped with the royal seal. They were from his siblings then and were most likely responses to the letters that he had sent the other week.

 But wait.

Why were there only two? He was certain that he had received and sent three letters last time. One to his sister, one to Michael and the other to Gabriel.

“Where’s the third one?” Castiel asked as he looked over them again to make sure that he had counted them right.

Dean frowned in confusion. “What you mean? There was only two, were there meant to be three?”

“I think so.” Was all Castiel said as he peeled open the first letter and hastily read through it.

The first letter was from his sister, Anael. She made it blindingly obvious that she was delighted to hear from him and was happy to know that he was doing well in his new home. She was as jovial as she always was, talking about her friends, the games she liked to play and of course the beach .Oh how she loved the beach. For the most part this letter was just like the other, she was her usual bubbly self and gave Castiel no reason to worry about her in the slightest. Just like before, her handwriting was rather messy but he suspected that was because she had written the letter when she was in one of her excitable moods. She was young and she got like that sometimes, it was nothing new so he thought nothing of it and moved onto the next.

The other letter was clearly written by Michael. It was rather similar to his last one as well, he spoke pleasantly but somehow still managed to come across as smarmy and somewhat creepy. Again, he briefly inquired about Castiel’s health and made a not so subtle suggestion that they should at least be trying to conceive by now, because ‘apparently’ that was what normal married couples did. But once those boring trivialities were out of the way he moved onto more pressing matters. He asked about the Winchester’s army as he wanted to know how large it was, what sort of units it comprised of and what sort of leader Dean was , and so on so forth.

So Castiel had two letters, one from Anael and the other from Michael. Which of course begged the question, where was Gabriel’s letter? Had he simply not gotten around to sending it yet? Or had he never received Castiel’s letter in the first place? There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this, there had to be. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. That he was missing something extremely important.

“I think…” Castiel began slowly, looking up from the letters so that he could see Dean. “I think something’s happened to Gabriel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to make use of the violence tag for a while now but couldn't think of a way to put it into the story. And poor, poor Matthew (who is the kid from Bugs btw if you didn't know.) 
> 
> As always , comments and kudos' are well appreciated!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: There probably won't be an update for a few weeks, three at most , because of my uniwork load. This semester has so many deadlines packed together. And I need to spend my time on my assignments and not this. Really , really sorry. :(


	13. Chapter 13

The package in Castiel’s hands was heavy and when he shook it he could hear something metallic rattling around inside. It had only just arrived this morning, four days after he had received his other two letters, so he knew that it couldn’t be from Michael or Anael.  But if it wasn’t from them, then who had sent it? It was wasn’t as if anyone else from Oceania had ever bothered to send him things, not those who had claimed to be his friends and certainly not his Father. And so he wondered whether it actually was from Gabriel. It would make sense, after all he was sure that his brother wouldn’t ignore his letter unless he didn’t have a choice.

And yet as much as he hoped that it was from his brother, deep down Castiel knew that it wasn’t.

For one, the handwriting on the outside of the packaging was all wrong. It was neat and cursive, nothing like Gabriel’s messy scrawl. If Castiel had to guess, it was probably written by one of his Father’s scribes, as they were famed for their attention to detail. So why had one of the scribes written this? Was it truly from his Father? And if so, what had taken him so long to get in touch? Even more troubling was the fact that the courier had delivered it with such haste. He had sped into the castle courtyard a moment before the guards were about to close the gates for the night and demanded that the letter be given to Castiel right away. He refused to say why, and simply insisted that it was of the upmost importance. Or so Castiel had been told. But now that he was actually holding it in his hands, he wasn’t sure whether he actually wanted to open it or not.

No. There was no way around it, he had to open it. Besides, what would be the point in putting it off? Dean would be back soon and Castiel knew that he would just snoop and pester him to open it up. So he might as well cut to the chase and open it up on his own accord.

Tearing off the royal seal, Castiel dipped his hand into the parcel and pulled out a thin, neatly folded letter. Like the parcel, it too had been sealed closed with red wax. He put the letter to the side for the moment, reached into the parcel again and felt something cold and metallic touch the end of his fingers. Grasping the object, he pulled it out and examined it under the candle light. It was a silver locket and chain, encrusted with sapphires that were as blue as the deep sea. Swirling and spiralling patterns were etched into the silver, leaving no room for doubt that it was Oceanic in origin. But why had he been sent this? It wasn’t his, and it wasn’t as if he had accidentally left it behind in his bedchambers. In fact, Castiel was certain that he had never even seen it before, as it wasn’t the sort of trinket he would be able to forget.  Was it a gift of some sort? And if so, why did the sender think he would want jewellery?

Surely there had to be some explanation to all of this, because all Castiel had right now was a bunch of unanswered questions.

It was time to open the letter then. And so he did. He opened it up and dragged the candle closer so that he could see properly in his dimply lit bed chamber.

The letter read:

_Your Highness, it grieves me to be the bearer of such bad news, but I must regretfully inform you of your Father, the King of Oceania’s, passing. He fell ill several days ago and despite the healers best efforts, his condition continued to deteriorate. Whilst I am sure that this news is most devastating, take consolation in that he died peacefully and without pain nor suffering. He is to be buried at sea in two days’ time, and I have been told to assure you that his highness, Crown Prince Michael is arranging the most lavished and befitting funeral for our dearly departed King._

_It is most unfortunate that it will impossible for you to attend his funeral and the reading of his will.  And so, out of respect for your status and the King’s wishes I have forwarded the silver locket and chain that he wished for you to have. It was from your Mother’s jewellery box, making it a fitting memento, or so I believe._

_In other news, your brother’s coronation is to take place in three weeks’ time.  It would be most understandable if you were not able to attend, but out of respect for your brother and Oceanic traditions I would advise that you are present. Surely such arrangements can be made for such an important occasion. Nevertheless, Crown Prince Michael has sent a letter to The King of Winchester and if the courier is as swift as he claimed it should be arriving any time now._

_Again, I must give you my sincerest condolences for your loss. He was a fair and just King and the whole Kingdom of Oceania is mourning his passing. It is my belief that Michael will follow in his footsteps and continue to protect and rule over Oceania, as your family have done so for thousands of years._

_May the Sea Goddess always watch over you._

For a long while, Castiel sat there staring at the paper in his hands. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading, that he couldn’t comprehend the neatly written words on the page.

His Father was dead.

There was absolutely no way that he could be dead, no way. And yet, as Castiel read through the letter again and again, the words stayed the same. His Father was dead, and the scribe was sorry for his loss.

With trembling hands, Castiel put the letter down onto the table. Just touching it repulsed him and made the shock and hurt feel all the more real. This was just so sudden, he had been absolutely fine when Castiel had seen him last. He was getting on in years, his hair was greying and the age lines had sunk into his skin, but he still seemed as healthy as he had ever been.

Sagging forward in his seat, Castiel held his head in his hands. His Father was dead and he didn’t quite know how to respond. Should he cry? No, that didn’t feel right. Not because he wasn’t sad, because by the Goddess he was. It was just that even if he wanted to, there were no tears for him to shed. No shuddering sobs ran through him. And his breaths were as steady and as calm as they had ever been. He just felt empty, hollow as if someone had snatched all of his feelings and emotions away in one fell swoop.

But what about the locket? Castiel dropped his hands and picked it up again. It was difficult for him to believe that it was his Mother’s, because not once could he ever remember her wearing it. It had been years since he had seen her last, and whilst some of his memories had gotten fuzzy he was certain that the few ones he had of her were as crisp and clear as they had ever been. She had meant the world to him, and then one day she was gone. No letter or note, she simply vanished without a word. Some believed she had ran away, others said she had tossed herself off of the palace’s highest tower. No one knew what happened to her and everyone was wise enough to not mention her to the royal family. All of her personal possessions had been locked away out of sight, so it wasn’t as if Castiel had anything to remember her by. But now he did, his Father had left him this. 

Perhaps he had loved Castiel after all.

* * *

 

By the time that Dean made it back to their bed chambers it was getting late.

He stepped into the room, closed the door behind him and hurried over to where Castiel was still sitting at the desk.  Rather than leaning against the desk, as he so often did, he stood close beside him.

“Cas, oh God, I’m so sorry. I just heard and I-”

“Huh? Oh, that.” Castiel murmured, eyes cast down as he held the locket in his hands. “Did you get a letter too?”

“Dad did. It came just now. Are you okay? Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked hesitantly, carefully as if he were treading on thin ice that was threatening to crack at any moment.

“Not now.” Was all Castiel said.

And that was enough, as Dean simply nodded in solemn understanding. “Not hungry?” He asked after a while, once he noticed the untouched bowl of murky stew on the end of the desk.

 “Hmm.”

Rather than berating him for not eating, as he sometimes did, Dean simply made a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. He picked up the bowl of stew, went over to the door, opened it a little and then passed it to the guard who was waiting out in the hall.

“Take this back to the kitchens. Thanks.” Dean closed and locked the door behind him. 

It wasn’t an extra precaution after everything that had happened as late, Dean always locked the door before they went to bed. Said that it was just an old habit, not to mention that it stopped people from barging in and waking them up at ungodly hours.

“So uh, you wanna go bed or stay up for a bit?” Dean asked, once he was within reasonable talking distance again.  “I’ll probably be able to sleep as long as you’re not too loud. Or I could use one of the spare bedrooms-“

“No, can you stay? Please.” It was surprising how quickly it took for Castiel to get used to sharing a bed with Dean. But now that he had, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to sleep on his own again. Just having Dean there was comforting and grounding, not to mention that he did a good job of keeping the bed warm too.

Dean’s smile was soft and reassuring. And there was a slight hint of relief in there too, as if all along he had been hoping , praying for Castiel to say that. “Course I can. I haven’t got anywhere else I’d rather be.”

And so the two of them got ready for bed.

It never took long, they had fallen into a routine that worked well for the both of them. One got undressed and changed into their nightclothes, whilst the other stood to the side and looked the other way to give them privacy. It wasn’t a conventional system, but was there anything conventional about their marriage?  Not only were they from completely different cultures and Kingdoms, but they also had been forced to get married by their Fathers for political gain. Castiel wasn’t bitter about it anymore, but that didn’t mean he had let it go, that he had forgotten how he had gotten into this situation in the first place.

Climbing into bed, Castiel pulled the thick quilt up around himself. He was on the left hand side of the bed and Dean was on the right, laying close but with a reasonable gap between the two of them.

Dean was silent for a long while, just listening to the soothing crackling of the fireplace and the whistling of the wind outside. When he did eventually speak he sounded hesitant, careful. “In the letter, it said about Michael’s coronation. Do you have to go?”

That was something Castiel had been avoiding thinking about, but with the way things were it wasn’t as if he had much choice. “Yes.”

“Because it’s tradition?”

“And Michael wants me there.” Castiel added. From here on out it would be whatever Michael wanted, Michael got. Castiel shuddered at the thought.

“You cold?” Dean asked in concern as he shifted a little closer.

“A little.” But when wasn’t he?                                                                                

Shuffling over so that he crossed the invisible boundary in the middle of the bed, Dean held out his arms in an invitation for a hug.  Castiel certainly didn’t need to be asked twice. Moving into the open space, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s torso and hummed quietly in appreciation when he felt Dean hold him in return. They tangled their legs together so that almost every part of them was touching. It was the comfort that he needed, a grounding and reassuring touch. By no means did it suddenly make everything better. Castiel’s Father was still dead, Gabriel still hadn’t responded to his letter, Michael was to be crowned as King and someone out there wanted him dead. But at least here and now, he felt safe and cared for, as if he really truly mattered to someone. It was a strange, new feeling but Castiel liked it a lot more than he probably should. Perhaps it was all those confusing feelings he had for Dean coming into play again, but right now he didn’t want to linger on such things. He just wanted to have this moment in peace.

Dean pressed a soft, revering kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. “We’ll talk in the morning, ‘kay? Let’s just try and get some sleep.”

Castiel nodded and clutched Dean’s nightshirt a little tighter. “Goodnight.”

* * *

 

When Castiel woke up the next morning he was still in Dean’s arms. His breaths were calm and steady, but he couldn’t see his face so there was no way for Castiel to tell whether he was still asleep.  It was true that he could have pulled back to see, but why would he want to do that? He was perfectly comfortable where he was. So he nuzzled his face against Dean’s chest and smiled to himself.

And then he heard a low, rumbling chuckle.

“Comfy there?”

Castiel froze, but the hand smoothing up and down his back soon chased the tension away.  “Very.” He admitted, finally pulling his face away from Dean’s chest so he could look up at him. And he was glad he did because he was met with the most stunningly beautiful smile.

“I should hope so, I’m behind on my schedule because of you.”

“Oh, sorry.” But Castiel wasn’t, he really wasn’t. “Would you like me to move? Because I can if you would like."

“What? No. I’ve got you right where I want you.” He said, tightening his hold around him a little.  

It seemed as though they were on the same page here. Dean didn’t want to get up and neither did Castiel. They both knew they would have to get up soon, but for now they could just stay where they were and revel in each other’s touch and company. Through the narrow slits in the blinds Castiel could see daylight, he couldn’t tell whether there was rain or snow, but either way he knew it would be cold outside. It always was. He just wanted winter to be over, as he had been told that spring was much milder and easier to deal with. Then again an Inlander had told him that so he wasn’t sure how much stock he should put their words, after all their idea of cold varied wildly from Castiel’s.

“Hey Cas?”

 “Yeah?”

“About Michael’s coronation…” He hesitated for a long moment as if he wasn’t sure whether he should continue. But he did. “You’ll have to leave soon if you want to get there in time. I mean without a convoy slowing you down you might be able to get there in about three weeks. If you’re lucky.”

“Oh.” Castiel sighed and moved his hand so he could rub at his face. “We should probably start packing then.”  The packing was fine, it was just the journey there that he was dreading.

“I’ll have to talk to Dad about it first, he knows but it’s always best to run things by him first. You know, just in case.”

Castiel nodded and shimmied a little bit closer. He was finally being allowed to visit home and yet he wasn’t looking forward to it one bit.

* * *

 

Castiel stood outside in the courtyard, atop the stairs and watched as the final preparations for his convoy where being made. Carts were being loaded up, servants rushed about with full arms and guards mounted their horses and got into formation. Whilst a decent amount of people would be accompanying him to Oceania, Castiel felt as though using the word convoy to describe this scene was a little too generous. The convoy last time had stretched on for miles like a long and winding snake, but here the number was closer to fifty or sixty. Not that he was complaining or anything like that, it was just an observation he had made. If anything, Castiel was grateful that King John had been generous enough to not only allow him to attend his brother’s coronation, but he had also organised everything in the matter of a couple of days. The King had then gone on to give Castiel his condolences, though he felt as though it was a formality more than anything else.

The only real gripe that Castiel had with this whole scenario, was the fact that Dean had been forbidden from coming as well.

“Are you sure you really can’t come?” Castiel asked, as he turned to look at Dean, who was standing closely by his side, their shoulders nudging.

 “It’s not my call.” Dean told him, his expression apologetic. “Dad wants me to stay here, and besides I’ve got stuff to do.”

“But surely it can wait, have you-“

“Cas, you know I’d come with you if I could. What Dad says goes.”

 “I know.” Castiel said, feeling a little stupid for hoping like that. Dean was right though, it wasn’t as if he had a choice here.  If the King decided that Dean had to stay then they both had to suck it up.  That didn’t mean that Castiel had to like it though, not one bit.

 “Just,” Dean huffed out a sigh and then forced on a smile. “You’ll look out for yourself, right? And enjoy yourself, you’re going home. You can eat all the fruit you want, go swimming, hell you can even sleep in your own bed without me hogging all the sheets.”

Castiel knew that Dean was listing all of those things to lift his spirts.  And that if he had found himself in this situation weeks ago he would have been thrilled at the opportunity to do all of those things. But now? It felt bittersweet. He didn’t want to see his brother crowned as King, he didn’t want to be reminded of his Father’s death and he didn’t want to be apart from Dean. All of that must have shown on his face, because Dean reached for his hand and held it reverently between his own.

“Don’t’ worry, I’ll miss you too.” Dean admitted, as if it was the most natural thing to say. The tips of his ears had gone red though, as well as his neck and cheeks. And Castiel didn’t think that was because of the cold.

Castiel felt his cheeks go red as well and he had been just about to say something in return when another, familiar voice cut in.

“Ready to go?” Sam said with a big smile, as he bounded up to them. He was making a big show pretending not to notice the fact that they were holding hands. It was as if he were used to it now, that he didn’t even bat an eyelid at such displays of affection.

“Remind me again why you’re going too?” Dean griped, glaring at his brother, though not too harshly.

“Do you really want Cas to face Michael on his own?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment. “Besides, it just makes sense. I’m studying political relations at the moment, my tutor said it would be good to see how it works first hand.”

Dean didn’t look convinced. Not one bit. “You’re such a brat.”

“Yes, but I’m your brat.” Sam’s grin was brilliant and Castiel couldn’t help but join in.

“Whatever,” Dean dismissed, steering the conversation back into more reasonable territory. “You keep an eye on him Sam, make sure he doesn’t go jumping off cliffs.”

 “I haven’t done that in years.” Castiel protested with a half-hearted scowl.

Sam nodded. “Will do.”

“Your Highnesses,” Victor said, riding up to them on his horse. “It’s time.”

Everyone seemed to be in position. The carts had been loaded up and the servants had taken their seats on the waggons. They were just waiting on Castiel and Sam now. Sam climbed onto his horse with ease and got comfortable on the saddle. Whilst Castiel was still standing there, holding Dean’s hand as if he couldn’t let go.

“Come on.” Dean said, tugging him along and stepping through the crowd.

Inias was saddled and ready, it had been a while since he had been ridden last and it was clear that he was eager to get this show on the road. He snorted when Castiel got close and huffed with pleasure when his rider gave him a good pat on the neck. Even though the assistance wasn’t needed, Dean helped Castiel up onto his saddle and steadied him when it seemed as though he hadn’t gotten his balance quite right.

“You good?”

Castiel smiled down at him.“I’m good.”

“I was thinking I could write to you, but- well- there’s not much point.” Dean fumbled with his words, as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough. He then sighed deeply, as if ashamed of himself.

 “No.” Castiel said, though not unkindly. “But I want you to write to me anyway. I’ll be bored out of my mind otherwise. And I’m sure I’ll have plenty of things to tell you.”

That made Dean smile. And by the Goddess it was such a lovely smile. “I doubt it. I’ll write to you then, complain about how boring and cold things are here, without you.”

“I look forward to it.”

 “Cas? You coming or what?” Sam called, beckoning him over with a wave.          

Dean eyed his brother for a moment and then looked to Castiel again. “So, till then?”

“Till then.”

Nudging Inias’ side, Castiel hurried over to where Sam was patiently waiting for him. Just before they were about to leave the castle courtyard he peered over his shoulder to see Dean still standing in the same spot as before. The distance between them made it difficult to tell what exact expression was on Dean’s face, but he could have sworn that he saw a look of utter disappointment and regret upon his face as he watched them go.

* * *

 

They had been on the road for weeks when Castiel first caught sight of the Oceanic palace perched upon the white cliffs. At first he had thought it was a mirage, that his mind was playing a trick on him. But when Sam pointed it out with a big grin on his face, he knew that they were getting close.  The weather was warm, in that comforting familiar way, and so they had shed their heavier clothes in exchange for something more airy and comfortable. The smell of the salty sea wafted to his nose, and Castiel couldn’t help but breathe in deep and listen to the hushed sounds of the tide in the distance. Everything was exactly like he remembered and in a way he was relieved to see that life had continued on just fine without him.

“It’s not as hot as I remember.” Sam said, as he rode closely by Castiel’s side.

“You were wearing Inlander clothes last time.” Castiel reminded him, recalling how even their summer clothes seemed bulky in comparison.

“True.” Sam agreed with a slight tilt of his head. “How long do we have now?”

“An hour at most.” Benny said, nudging his horse forward so that he could cut into their conversation. He too was wearing appropriate clothing, though he wasn’t nearly as comfortable in it as Sam seemed to be. Every now and then he would pick at it in disgust. “The letter said someone would come to pick us up, but I don’t see anybody.”

“Maybe they’re running late.” Sam said, squinting ahead as if he thought he would be able to see them if he tried hard enough.

They had seen no one else on the road, other than the occasional townsperson or traveller, who was going about their daily business. When they had noticed that it was indeed Castiel, they stared with wide eyes and mouth agape, as if they couldn’t believe that he was actually here, that he had really returned. They soon regained themselves and greeted him with a bow and an honest, wide smile. It was refreshing to actually be greeted so earnestly, the people loved him here, unlike in Winchester. And so Castiel gladly waved and smiled right back at them.

“Wait.” Benny said, raising his hand to signify the convoy to come to a stop. “I see something. You think it’s them?” He asked, turning to look at Castiel.

In the distance Castiel could see a cloud of dust, swirling and coming at them like a great sandstorm. But it was obvious that it was no sandstorm, because it was accompanied by the sound of thudding hooves upon the dirt track. When he squinted to see better, Castiel noticed the royal banner tossing and turning in the air like the ocean’s waves.

“Yes.” Castiel clarified and gave Inias a quick rub on the neck as they waited for them to get closer.

A couple of minutes later, the battalion of guards came to a stop and parted in the middle so that their commander- no wait, it was Michael- could step forward and greet them. For the life of him, Castiel couldn’t imagine why he would personally make the effort to come and greet them here and now. He had imagined that they would have found Michael sitting on the throne, gazing down at them as if they were mere insects. Then again this was his brother he was thinking about, so he should have known better to make any assumptions, he wasn’t the predictable sort after all.

“Castiel, it has been too long.” He said, with that fake, too sweet smile of his. He looked over the convoy for a moment, his gaze searching. “Where is your husband? The King?”

“Unfortunately, they were unable to make it at such short notice.” Castiel told him, perfectly polite and apologetic. “They send their regards and condolences.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “And Prince Sam, it is such an honour that you could find time in your -no doubt -busy schedule.”

If Sam was offended by his words then he did a brilliant job of hiding it. “The pleasure is all mine, your Highness. Or should I call you, your Majesty now?”

“The Coronation is not until tomorrow, so I am still technically a Prince, so you can refer to me as such.” Michael then turned his judgmental gaze back to Castiel. “I am so glad you could make it in time, Anael will be thrilled to see you.”

Castiel swallowed nervously. “And Gabriel?”

“He took a rather nasty fall down the stairs the other day, but other than that, I promise you he is fine.”

Now that immediately sparked Castiel’s concern. But for both his and Gabriel’s sake, he smothered it down as much as he could. “Is that why he didn’t write back to me?”

 “I would assume so, you’ll have to ask him yourself. He’s back at the palace, resting. Or at least he was when I saw him last.” Michael told him dismissively, as if he didn’t care. He probably didn’t.

“Oh I see.” Castiel nodded and tightened his grip on the reins. “Shall we then, brother?”

“Yes. I’ll have rooms arranged for you and the like.” He turned his horse around and was about to lead them back the way he came, when he suddenly pulled his horse to a stop. “Oh and Castiel, when you are settled in please come to my office. We need to talk.”

With that he spurred his horse on and the battalion of guards and the convoy merged into one as they made their way down the path and towards the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! I'm not dead. It just have so much uni work to do atm. My updates will be more regular in April , May ect I promise.
> 
> And yep there is going to be a lot of drama up ahead. I'm terrible I know.


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel had thought that returning home would at least make him feel better about all of this.  But it didn’t. There was a heavy, foreboding weight in the air, which even the cool ocean breeze that drifted through the palace wasn’t able to dispel.  Despite the lovely weather outside, everything seemed dark and gloomy. The walls were not as white as he remembered, the servants had lost their smiles and the spring in their steps, and even his room didn’t feel as though it belonged to him anymore. Castiel could have put it down to mourning, after all the people were still recovering from the loss of their beloved King. And yet, he knew it was more than that. Something had changed, the balance of power had shifted and it was as if everyone (at least subliminally) knew that a storm was coming. There was nothing anyone could do, but wait and see, and hope that they could weather it out.

“Benny,” Castiel began as he stepped out into the hall and closed his bedroom door behind him. His servants had finished unpacking his luggage, so there was no point in hiding away in his bedroom any longer.  He had things to do and there was no time to waste. “Where are the other guards?”

 “They’ll be about. Why?”

“Do you need them?” Victor asked, stepping forward with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“No, I just want you to know that there might be a situation in which we need them. Do you understand?” He obviously couldn’t predict what said situation would be or when it would happen, but it was always best to be prepared just in case.

Victor pressed his lips into a thin line. “Was it a bad idea coming here?”

“Maybe.” Castiel admitted with a bit of a shrug. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Where to now? Michael’s office?” Benny asked as the trio began to make their way down the stairs.

“Oh Goddess no. ”Castiel said, affronted by the mere suggestion. He knew that he probably should, as it wasn’t wise to keep his brother waiting, and that it wasn’t fair to abandon Sam like this. But there were more important things on his agenda right now. “I’m going to find my other brother, Gabriel.” 

Castiel didn’t care about the cryptic letter he had sent, he just wanted to see Gabriel with his own eyes and to put those awful worries to rest once and for all. He had seen his brother get hurt before when they were young, but it had never to the extent that he was incapable of completing simple tasks, such as writing a letter. Castiel remembered the time when Gabriel had once stepped on a sea urchin, and the time that he had nearly poked himself in the eye with a harpoon. But he had never fallen down stairs before; he was far too nimble on his feet for something like that to happen. And yet, at least according to Michael he had.

Michael had never been the most trustworthy of individuals. He had a special way with words, he would twist and manipulate them and the people around him into doing whatever he wanted. But it had never occurred to Castiel that he was an outright liar. Now though, he was beginning to doubt himself. What if he had been wrong all along? What if the Michael he knew was simply just a pretence, a mask hiding the true man underneath? As a prince, Michael was already a force to be reckoned with, but as a King of a very wealthy and affluent nation he was only going to get worse. From here on out, not only Castiel was going to have to plan out his courses of action very carefully , but he was also going to have to play his cards very close to his chest. But if that meant that he could keep himself and those he cared about safe, then it was something that he was more than willing to do.

* * *

 

Finding Gabriel was a lot harder than Castiel had first anticipated. He wasn’t in his room resting, like Michael said he was. He wasn’t around the kitchen, snooping for food and stealing freshly picked fruit. And he wasn’t with Anael, who was absolutely delighted to see Castiel again. Even with Benny and Victor’s help he doubted that they were going to find him anytime soon. If he didn’t want to be found, he wasn’t going to be found. It was as simple as that.

Stepping into the foyer, Castiel had been debating giving up on their search, when he came across an alarming view. Now, it wasn’t all that uncommon to see Oceanic guards dotted about the palace, and there was almost always a set of them on guard in the entrance. But never had he seen them wear armour before. Nearly all year round it was hot in Oceania, and even on the coolest of days there was no need to wear anything more than one layer of clothing. And yet these guards were wearing full leather armour that even had chainmail underneath. They weren’t from Oceania, Castiel was sure of that. So who were they then? And why were they here?

“You there,” Castiel said, striding up to one of the guards. “Where is Prince Gabriel?”

 The guards all turned to look at him, but Castiel couldn’t see their eyes as they were wearing helmets. None of them responded, they just smirked at him and spoke to one another in some language that he didn’t understand or even recognise.

Castiel’s jaw clenched in annoyance. “I asked you a question. Where is my brother?”

Behind him, Benny and Victor shifted their weight from one foot to the next, ready to spring into action if need be.

His question did not have the desired effect as the guards simply laughed in his face. “We don’t serve you,” one of them said, with a strange accent. “Go ask someone who cares.”

Castiel didn’t need to ask what they meant by that, it was obvious. Who else would they serve but Michael? Perhaps they did know where Gabriel was, or maybe they didn’t. Either way it didn’t matter, because Castiel didn’t want to talk to them as he knew nothing good would come from it.  They would just continue to mock him and he wasn’t going to subject himself to that. So he wordlessly turned away from them and gestured for Benny and Victor to follow. As they walked away the guards all laughed boisterously, and Castiel could have sworn that he heard one of them call him a “southern whore.”

* * *

 

The last time Castiel had been out on the balconies was when he had his first, actual conversation with Dean. They were to be married later that day, and frankly Castiel had been a nervous wreck. He liked to think that he came across as being calm and collected, but Dean has seen through that pretence right away. His smile was small but reassuring, and he had been completely honest with him. No false promises and no white lies. Even in that moment, he was the Dean that Castiel had grown to care for. It felt bittersweet to be back there, to feel those memories rush back in a sudden flood and to feel the familiar warmth of the sun bath his skin.

But something was out of place here and it took Castiel only a moment to realise what it was.  Right in front of him, hunched over on the steps was Gabriel. His back was mottled with bruises that spread from his shoulders all the way down to the dip of his back, and his right arm was tied up in a sling.

“Gabriel!” Castiel called and jogged over to him.

If he had thought he looked bad from the back, well Gabriel looked even worse face to face. He was a mess and it was obvious that these sorts of injuries were not from falling down the stairs. He had been beaten. And whoever had done this to him hadn’t pulled their punches.

“By the Goddess-!”

“Well hello to you too Cassie.” He would have smiled at him but his cheeks were far too sore for that. “Like the new look? Bruises are in this season.”

“Who did this to you!?” Castiel gestured at his brother angrily, absolutely appalled that someone had dared to do this to him. It was disgusting and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Gabriel raised a brow. “ _Really_? Who do you think?” He let that question hang in the air. “Anyway, what’s with the goons?”

Castiel knew what his brother was doing; trying to change the topic would do him no good. “They’re not goons, this is Benny and Victor. Was it the guards? Did they do this?”

He rolled his eyes. “They’re not guards, they’re the Leviathans. Meatheads for hire.”

“And Michael told them to beat you? Why?”

That made Gabriel clam right up. His posture went all rigid and he averted his gaze to the floor. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it. And normally Castiel would have respected his choice and would have left it alone. But with things the way they were he couldn’t. So he went and sat beside him.

“If it’s something I did, or said in the letter-“

“Shut up,” Gabriel cut him off.  “It’s not your fault.”

“What then? What did you do to annoy him so much?”

He wetted his lips and looked about nervously. “Okay, but you’ve got to promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone here. You understand?”

Castiel nodded.

 “I think Michael killed Dad.”

“He did what?!” He asked, with wide eyes.

“No wait, there’s more. The whole marriage thing, the alliance, it was all his idea. Dad really didn’t want to sell you off like that, but Mikey must have said something that got under his skin. You know what he’s like, he was adamant that we allied with the Inlanders and didn’t care how much it cost.”

It was all so much to take in, and if Castiel hadn’t been sitting down surely he would have lost his balance. Michael had killed their Father. But why? Why was it so important that he became King now? Why couldn’t he have waited like he was supposed to?  Hearing Gabriel tell him this news was like pouring salty water onto a fresh wound. It hurt but it was necessary and so he just had to grin and bear it. Castiel belatedly realised that in the second letter, Gabriel was going to warn him about Michael’s plot to kill their Father. He had probably hoped that Castiel would have been able to use his connections to have something done about it. Perhaps he would have been able to persuade King John to warn his Father about the plot, or maybe they would have been able to send a battalion of soldiers to arrest Michael and stop him before it was too late. But the second letter was never sent, because Michael had ensured Gabriel’s silence.  And now nothing could be done, their Father was dead and Michael was going to crowned King of Oceania.

And then there was the whole issue with the marriage, that brought on a boat load of hurt, confusion and betrayal. Why had Michael been so determined for Castiel to marry Dean? For the alliance? Or some unseen ulterior motive?  Castiel shouldn’t have been so surprised, and in some strange sense he wasn’t. This was exactly the sort of thing Michael would do. He was beginning to see his brother’s true colours and he really did not like what he was seeing. He truly was a malicious, conniving son of a bitch, who only wanted power and didn’t care about who he hurt or the lives ruined in his pursuit to get what he wanted.

Castiel was silent for a long while, and when he did finally speak his voice shook. “How- how do you know all of this? About the marriage?”

Again, Gabriel wouldn’t look at him. “Michael told me.”

“What?!” Castiel asked bitingly as he got to his feet.

Had Castiel heard him right? Surely not. Because, when Castiel had asked him days prior to the wedding, he had insisted that he knew nothing about the alliance. That he only learned about it after Castiel had told him.  And of course Castiel had believed him, why wouldn’t he?  After Gabriel was his brother, and even though they weren’t all that close, he still trusted him and valued his opinions. But now, Gabriel was going against everything he had said and was looking terribly guilty as he did so.

 “Listen!” Gabriel stood up, and raised his free hand in surrender. “It was either me or you, okay? And I didn’t want to get married so I said I wouldn’t do it. It’s not my fault you’re a goody two shoes. If you’d just said no-”

 “How can you blame this on me?!  You should have warned me in the first place!” Would it have done any good? Probably not, but even so it would have been better to know about it.

“Yeah I know, and I’ve felt shit about it ever since. Everything that’s happened has been all my fault! You! Dad! I know I’ve fucked up!” He went silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was much quieter. “They only reason I’ve bothered to stay in this hellhole is Anna. I can’t leave her here with Michael. Who knows what he’ll use her for?”

Castiel wanted to be angry at him, by the Goddess he did, but he just couldn’t muster it. Not when Gabriel seemed so sincere and hurt. And so with a heavy sigh, Castiel moved on. “What do you mean? Is she not safe?” He asked, not quite sure what his brother was getting at.

“Think about it Cassie. If he’s willing to sell you off and have his thugs beat the shit out of me, what do you think he’d do to her if I left?”

 “I see,” Castiel said, pacing back and forth. “I know, come back to Winchester with me. And Anael too! You’ll be safe there, Dean will make sure of it. ”

“ _Really_? If we suddenly go missing Michael’s going to throw a hissy fit. He’ll say that the Inlanders abducted us, and then screw up the treaty. Trust me Cassie, I’ve thought about this more than you have. I’m stuck here and I can’t do shit.”

It appeared as though there was very little anyone could do at this point.  Gabriel was just as powerless as Castiel, and had probably had been since the start. Castiel had been so blind to think that he had left behind a paradise, when in fact it was almost as bad, if not worse than Winchester. At least he had allies there, people he could depend on. Here, Gabriel had no one.

Castiel came to a stop. “Just… Be careful please. Don’t let anything like this happen again.”

“I know, I know. I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll be careful.” He said dismissively and sat back down on the steps.  When Castiel didn’t leave, he spoke again. But now he sounded like the Gabriel that he was familiar with. “Haven’t you got something better to do then pester me?”

As much as Castiel hated to admit it, he had promised Michael that he would come and see him in his office. He had already left him waiting long enough and if he delayed any longer surely he would annoy him. And with the way things were now that really was not a good idea. 

“I shall talk to you later.” Castiel he promised, before turning away and heading back into the palace, with his loyal guards following in tow.

* * *

 

When Michael had asked Castiel to come to his office, he actually meant that he wanted him to come to the King’s study. He hadn’t even been crowned yet, but that didn’t seem to matter to him, as he had already settled into the study and made it his own. Every single trinket and object that had belonged to their Father had been taken out and presumably thrown away.

“What took you so long?” Michael asked, sitting at the desk with his hands clasped together.

Doing his best to ignore the heavy weight of his gaze, Castiel smiled apologetically and settled into the spare seat ,as Benny closed the door behind him and gave the two some privacy.

“My apologises, there was a mix-up with the luggage.”

Michael didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t question it either. “You look thin. Have they been starving you?”

Now that wasn’t a question that he had expected. Not at all. Looking down at himself, Castiel frowned. He had never been the sort of person to spend hours gazing at himself in the mirror, and yet he was still familiar with the ins and outs of his body. He was athletic and strong, or at least he had been before. But now that attention had been called to it, he had to admit that he had lost weight. A fair amount of it actually.

“No… It’s just the food in Winchester does not agree with me. I don’t like it very much.”

 “You can tell me Castiel, if they have done anything to hurt or distress you…”

“They haven’t.” He insisted. “Dean has been especially kind.”

For some reason that perked his interest. “He has? Tell me more about him, what sort of King do you think he will be?”

So Michael was fishing for information again? Trying to size up the competition perhaps? “He is a good man,” Castiel said, being completely honest. “He’s very intelligent and brave. But also willing to do what is necessary, even if it’s… It’s not good.” 

He nodded slowly and processed the information, likely storing it away for later use.  Leaning back in his chair, Michael opened up one the desks drawers and pulled out a letter and put on the table. “It came this morning. From Prince Dean I presume.”

Taking the letter, Castiel took a minute to look it over. He had seen Dean’s hand writing before, so he knew what it looked like. It was messy, a little rushed but not unintelligible. If Michael expected him to open it right here and now, then he was going to be disappointed. Castiel was going to read it in the privacy of his bed chamber and not any sooner. And so, he put it on his lap and then turned his attention back to his brother.

“He’s smitten with you, isn’t he?”

Castiel shifted in his chair. “So it seems.”

“Hmm. And yet you still haven’t laid with him.” There was a silent accusation behind his words, and if Michael hadn’t been so good at masking his emotions he would have surely been angry.

Oh crap. Castiel had hoped that his reassurances in the letters would have been enough appease him and his unreasonable desire for Castiel to get pregnant, but apparently not.  Michael knew that they hadn’t been having sex and for some reason it irritated him enough for him to bring it up in person. In fact, Castiel would go as far to say that this was probably why he had called him here in the first place. How was he supposed to get around this? He wanted to keep on Michael’s good side, but at the same time it wasn’t a good idea to lie to him.

“I… He hasn’t shown any interest in _that_.”  It wasn’t exactly a lie, but he wasn’t telling the entire truth either.

Michael raised his brows in surprise. “He hasn’t?”

“No. We sleep together in the same bed, but he hasn’t touched me like that... Not since the wedding night.”

“Why not?”

 “I don’t know.” Castiel shrugged.

Michael pursed his lips in thought and got to his feet. He went to the open window and looked down at the waves crashing against the bottom of the cliffs. For a long while he didn’t say anything, and his silence was unnerving to Castiel.

“Do you know why I keep asking you about this?” He asked as he turned to look at Castiel.

“No.”

“This marriage is… It’s very important to the future of this Kingdom. Our fate lies in the balance Castiel, and I’m concerned that if we do not fulfil our side of the bargain King John will go back on his word. If we are going to continue to grow we need powerful allies, they need to trust and respect us. And what better way is there than to provide the next Inlander King with a healthy heir?”

Oceania’s fate lies in the balance? What was he even talking about? Castiel understood the basis of the treaty and from he had been told; it was all about trade relations and political gain. Why was he talking about it as if something dire was going to happen? Was he trying to scare Castiel into obedience? Or was he actually making a valid point? It just didn’t make sense though. King John had shown very little interest in Castiel providing an heir and Dean hadn’t mentioned it since their conversation on the balcony.

Castiel of course wasn’t going to contradict him. He simply nodded in understanding. “What would you have me do?”

“If he isn’t going to take the incentive, you’re going to have do it yourself, Castiel. Seduce him and have him bed you until you fall pregnant.”

“And if I don’t?” He knew this was a risky question, but it was one he had to ask nonetheless.

Michael’s expression darkened, but was quickly replaced by one of his fake, smarmy smiles. “Go read your letter. Tell him how much you miss him, how much you wish he could be here with you and send it off as soon as you can. Do you understand me Castiel?”

He nodded shakily and got to his feet, clutching the letter tightly in his hands. Castiel had just been about to reach for the door handle when Michael spoke again, making him freeze on the spot.

“Oh and go to bed early tonight, my coronation will begin at dawn. I shall see you then.”

And with that Castiel hurried out of the room.

* * *

 

_To Cas_

_As you can probably tell I suck at writing letters. I never know what to say and it always comes out weirdly formal. Proper letters are fine and all, but personal ones? I don’t know how you do it Cas. If the courier is as fast as he says, then this letter should get there before you even arrive. Thought I’d give you some reading material for those lonely nights. Write back to me if you want, or don’t. It’s all up to you._

_Nothing much is going on here. We’re doing a recruitment drive for the army again, which means training and processing a lot of new men. More than half of them are useless and don’t know a thing about combat. But it’s the same thing every year; we’ll make good men out of them by the time that we’re done._ _I haven’t taken you to the camps yet have I? That’s a crying shame, as soon as you get back I’ll give you the grand tour. I think you’ll like it. It’s pretty interesting, there’s always something going on and some of the guys think it’s about time they meet you. Missouri’s still pissed about not being allowed to go with you and she’s taking it out on me for some reason. Crazy old bat. I know she means well and all, but she still creeps me out._

_I know this sounds dumb, and I probably sound like a whiny baby, but you’ve been gone for like two weeks and I already miss you real bad. ~~I miss you waking up next to me, even if you have awful morning breath. I miss your dumb smile and I wish that I~~      And Sam, I miss Sam too. Don’t tell him that though, he’ll get all smug. It’s just so quiet around here now. Other than work I’ve got shit all to do and it sucks. Suppose I shouldn’t be complaining too much, at least I don’t have to put up with your brothers. Good luck with that!_

_Oh yeah! Do you remember back in Oceania, when I said was going to give you something? It’s not that I forgot or anything like that. I was just sort of waiting for the right time. It’s a family heirloom, and no offence, but I kinda wanted to wait and see what you were like before I gave it to you. The last thing I wanted was to give it to you and you’d lose it or throw it away. But I know you’re not like that now and I want you to have it. So yeah._

_I’m going to end it here I think. I’m rambling and you’re probably bored out of your mind._

_From Dean._

Castiel lowered the letter. It was about what he had expected, but even so it was nice to read his words. Despite what Dean said, Castiel actually enjoyed reading his letter. He could imagine him sitting hunched over the desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he scribbled away. It was sweet, ever so sweet. Knowing that his feelings were mutual, and that he wasn’t the only one who missed him quite desperately, bought a smile to Castiel’s face. The whole gift thing was intriguing and Castiel was curious to see what the camps were like, but it was more of a distraction than anything else right now. He needed to focus on the matters at hand, so thoughts of mysterious heirlooms and tours of camps were pushed to the back of his mind.

“What did he say?” Sam asked, leaning forward on the bed so he could grab the letter.

Castiel held the letter out of Sam’s reach.  “Things.”

“Things?” Sam tried to snatch it again, but Castiel was too quick and scooted further back onto the bed. “Come on, let me see.”

“No.”

“So you‘re happy to tell me everything that brothers said, but you won’t show me Dean’s letter?”

“Yes, because it’s mine.” Castiel reasoned. It was a private letter and he couldn’t see why Sam was so insistent on reading it.

Sam eyed him suspiciously, but thankfully let it go. “So Michael’s coronation...”

“Yes,” he said, as he plucked a slice of fruit off the tray and ate it. They had taken dinner in his bedroom tonight, as neither of them wanted to run the risk of being invited to dinner with Michael. “What about it?”

“How much do you think things are going to change? With Michael as King, I mean.”

“I’m not sure.” Castiel admitted with a troubled frown. “But I know it won’t be for the better.”

* * *

 

When Castiel left his bed chambers that morning it was still dark out and the sea gulls hadn’t flown from their nests. The world outside was quiet, but inside the palace it was not. Once again, the servants were rushing about, trying to ensure that everything was ready. A sense of panic lingered in the air and Castiel could feel how nervous everyone was. The coronation had to be perfect; there was no room for error here, otherwise Michael would be furious. And no wanted that.

 Castiel had never been to a coronation before, because his Father had been crowned long before he had even been born. But even so, he still knew how the system worked. The ceremony was to take place at dawn, on the beach and everyone who was anyone in Oceania was going to be in attendance. This of course, meant that Castiel was going to have to do some socialising today, which was something he was obviously not looking forward to.

“Prince Castiel!” A familiar voice called out.

He turned to see Naomi hurrying down the corridor, a small army of maids following in tow. Behind, him, Benny whistled in appraisal and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. One of the maids, a pretty dark skinned woman, grew flustered at the attention and looked away.

“Can I help you?” Castiel couldn’t say that he was glad to see her, but he didn’t exactly resent her either. None of this was her fault after all.

She looked him up and down as if she had some sort of scathing comment on the tip of her tongue. But rather than saying it, she simply reached out and straightened the sash tied his waist. “You look good, your Highness.”

“Thank you.”

She was quiet for a moment and then something dawned on her. “Where is Prince Samuel?”  She asked.

“We agreed to meet in the foyer, I was heading there now.”

“I see,” she said, placated. “I hope you enjoy the coronation and your stay in Oceania, your Highness.” And with that she gestured for the maids to follow her and continued on her way down the hall.

* * *

 

“Thank God that’s over.” Sam groaned, as he fanned himself with his hand.

The coronation had gone on for hours, and near the end even Castiel had begun to tire. For the most part, all they had to do was sit down on pillows and listen to the speaker drawl on and on and on. It wasn’t so bad for Castiel, he had blocked most of it out and had spent his time looking at the sea and observing the other guests who looked just as bored as he felt.  But by the time that the ceremony had drawn to a close and Michael, who stood on the podium, was finally crowned King of Oceania, it had gotten rather hot.  

Poor Sam didn’t seem to know what to do with himself in this heat and was looking rather miserable.

“Come, let’s get you a drink.” Castiel said, and lightly tugged at his wrist.

They were just about to enter the food tent, when Raphael, seemingly out of nowhere, stepped out in front of them.  Castiel had never liked the man and he’d never tried to hide it either. Not that Raphael seemed to care. He was one of Michael’s closest friends, and now that he had been crowned King, Castiel had a feeling he would hang around the palace even more now. And that was something he would have to warn Gabriel about. Not that he was at the coronation, as Michael had insisted that he stayed in bed and got some well needed rest. It wasn’t because he cared, oh no. It was simply his way of maintaining appearances, as the sight of a bruised and beaten Prince would no doubt cause controversy in the court.

“Lord Raphael,” Castiel greeted with a nod, and went step around him.

Raphael simply blocked off his path again. “Where are you going?”

Castiel didn’t know why he was asking, it was none of his business. But appearances sake, he kept his response polite, if not a little dry. “Prince Samuel is feeling unwell, I was going to get him a drink.”  

“He’s your husband?” He asked, completely serious.

For a split second Sam looked horrified, but he managed to smother it down quickly. “No,” he said. “I’m his brother-in-law, Dean was unable to make it.”

“Right.” Raphael didn’t seem too impressed but he didn’t press any further, he simply stepped out of the way and watched the two of them head into the food tent.

A good while later, Sam and Castiel managed to find somewhere quiet to sit on the beach. It was beneath a small tent and they were surrounded by their Inlander guards, which now that Castiel paid attention to it; they did a good job of keeping unwanted nobles away. Castiel supposed that they did look pretty intimidating with their scowly faces and sharp weapons. But that was the point, and right now he was grateful for that, as they granted them some well needed privacy and protection.

“Is it always like this here? It feels so tense, “Sam said. “I kinda feel like half the people here want to stab me or something.” He took a long sip from his goblet before putting it down on the sand.

 “It’s not you.” Castiel was sure of that. “It’s just…The sooner we get back to Winchester, the better.”

It felt strange to say that, but it was the truth. Oceania wasn’t good anymore, it wasn’t the home that he knew and loved.  It felt as though the Sea Goddess herself had abandoned it and that in itself was a terrifying thought that made him shudder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post this today instead of tomorrow as a way of making up for the wait! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Make sure you tell me what yah think cause I'm a comment whore. ;p
> 
> P.s won't be updating this week cause I'm staying at a friends. Sorry. :/


	15. Chapter 15

By the time the weeklong visit to Oceania drew to a close, Castiel was desperate to go home. He wasn’t looking forward to the long journey back and he certainly didn’t miss the cold weather. But anything was better than this, then staying here in this toxic place. Just looking at Michael wear his Father’s crown made Castiel’s skin crawl.  It was true that it fit him perfectly and that he actually looked  rather good in it, but knowing what he had done to get his hands on it, soured all of that .He hadn’t earned the throne , he was simply a pretender and a traitor. And because of that he might as well have been wearing a garland of seaweed around his head. In fact, it would have been more fitting, or so Castiel thought.

Despite his discomfort, he had to be grateful that their stay had been pretty uneventful. Nothing ground shaking happened and if Dean’s letters were anything to go by, all seemed to be well in Winchester too. On the surface, Michael actually appeared to be a good King. The people seemed to respect him and all of the changes he had implemented had been well received. Then again, a decrease in tax and an increase in the amount of public holidays was bound to do that. It all seemed too good to be true, and no matter how much the Lords and Ladies went on about how Michael would usher in a golden age, Castiel was not buying it. Michael had to be up something and it was only a matter of time before he implemented his grand scheme.

“You will keep writing to me, won’t you Castiel?” Michael asked as they stood in the palace courtyard. Around them, the final preparations for the convoy were being made. It wouldn’t be long now and soon they would be free to leave, Castiel simply had to deal with his brother’s company a little longer.

 He nodded. “Of course.”

Michael smiled, pleased with his response. “Oh, would you also deliver this letter to the King? I wouldn’t want him to think I was just throwing silver coins at him for no reason.”

Castiel had been about to ask what he meant by that, when he saw some servants hurry past, struggling to carry a sealed trunk.  It all clicked into place. Castiel had never actually entered the treasury before, but even so he knew that the room was packed to the brim with boxes just like that. And those chests were filled with polished silver coins and all sorts of rare and valuable jewels.

“You’re bribing him?”

Michael laughed. But it was not a pleasant sound, it was fake and hollow. “Now why would you think that Castiel?  It’s simply a gift, a show of good faith. We’re allies after all and I want King John to know that despite our Father’s unfortunate passing, I still intend to keep our end of the bargain. ”

For obvious reasons, he did not believe one single word that left his brother’s mouth. They were too calculated and too careful to be a simple slip of the tongue. So Michael was testing him, offering him a tiny sliver of information so that he could see what Castiel would do with it. Would he run back to Lawrence and tell the Inlanders everything that he had learned here? Or would he keep his mouth shut like he was supposed to? This was Michael’s, simple but effective, way of cutting to the chase, of finding out once and for all who Castiel served, who he _truly_ served. And who was it going to be, the Inlanders or Michael?

Castiel wetted his lips and clasped his hands together in front of him. He had suspected that Michael would corner him like this sooner rather than later, but he had never thought he would be so direct about it. When Castiel did respond, he chose his words very carefully and kept his tone quiet and submissive. “I see, I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything your Majesty. I simply thought that-”

“It’s quite all right.” Michael dismissed. “I know what you are like, so suspicious of everyone. Even me.” They stood in silence for a moment, just taking in the sights around them and dwelling on their thoughts until Benny made his way over to them.

“Is it done?” Castiel asked, grateful for the interruption.

“Yes, your Highness. We are waiting on you now.” And with that he took his leave and went back to his station.

Michael stepped forward, making it clear that he had one more thing to say before Castiel left. “You will think about what I have said, won’t you?”

It wasn’t as if he had a choice here, so he nodded. “Please give Gabriel and Anael my love.”

“Mm hm.”

With that, Castiel bowed deeply, before he hurried over to where Benny was holding onto Inias’ reins for him.  He didn’t need his help to mount the horse, he had always been able to do it himself, but even so he was grateful that Benny was thoughtful enough to ask anyway, and so he thanked him accordingly. When he had settled comfortably on Inias’ back he couldn’t help but let out a long, relieved sigh. It felt good to be up high and to hold the reins firmly in his hands. It gave Castiel a sense of control, and assured him that, at least with this small thing, he was the one who chose what direction he was going in .Even though he knew he was just a pawn in the grand scheme of things and that two very powerful Kings were using him as a bartering tool to get what they wanted, he knew that he wasn’t completely powerless.  And that despite how alone he felt sometimes, there were people who loved and cared about him, and who would do anything for him if he asked.

Just thinking about Dean made Castiel feel better. Hope wasn’t lost. He just had to wait until he got to Lawrence and then they could talk. They could sort this out, make a plan of action and go from there. Yes, that was all they needed to do.  Pulling in a deep breath of ocean air, Castiel nudged Inias forward and the convoy began the very long and slow journey back to Winchester.

* * *

 

With its heavy fortifications and emphasis on function over form, Lawrence Castle wasn’t exactly a beautiful building. Its sheer size was impressive, and it could easily withstand a siege, but it wasn’t awe-inspiring like the Oceanic palace. No one had taken the time to write poetry or compose songs about it, and in all likelihood no one ever would. Inlanders weren’t like that, they had better things to do, or so they would claim.  And so Lawrence Castle was like every other castle that could be found on the Continent, it simply served as a home of the Winchester royal family, and it served that purpose well.

But despite the castles faults, Castiel was glad to see it again; to know that it was exactly the same as when had left it. The other night, when they were still on the road, he had the most awful dream. He didn’t know who or to what purpose, but some faceless and evil nation had invaded Winchester and had completely decimated its army and its people. Castiel had arrived to see the aftermath and all he could do was look on in horror as the home he had come to love was raided and pillaged. These faceless enemies were unstoppable and everything that Castiel had ever held dear had been lost to him forever.

 Yes Castiel knew it was just a dream, and that it meant nothing, but even so he had spent the rest of the journey fretting about it. What if something _had_ happened? What if they were too late? What if Dean was- but no. It was silly and now that they were only a couple of minutes ride away from the castle courtyard, he knew everything was all right.

 There was no parade to welcome them back this time and Castiel was glad of it, there was nothing to celebrate and considering what had happened he wouldn’t have thought it fitting anyway. The small convoy moved quietly and inconspicuously through the city, but still that didn’t stop the occasional Inlander call out to them in greeting.  By now Castiel had lost his novelty, people didn’t stare at him as much as they used to and it was as if they had come to terms with him living here and being Dean’s husband.

“Are you excited to see Dean again?” Sam wiggled around in his saddle like an impatient child.

“Yes,” he admitted with a smile. “Are you?”

“No. Why would I be? It’s been nice not having to put up with him, I’ll miss the peace and quiet.”

Castiel hummed, not convinced. He knew that Sam and Dean were close and despite their near constant complaining they still cared about each other very much. More than they would ever want to admit.

A moment later, the castle gates came into view. They were massive, with two large towers on either side and had guards keeping watch both on the ground and up on the turrets. There was no need to heave open the gates, as they had been opened at dawn and would be closed at dusk when the sun set. So they walked on through and standing in the middle of the courtyard waiting for them, was a familiar and very handsome face.

Castiel nudged Inias along and rushed to the front of the convoy, before tugging his horse to a stop right in front of Dean. His grin was wide and genuine and he looked every bit as happy as Castiel felt. The few letters that they had sent each other had got them by, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Seeing Dean right there in front of him, in person, was the perfect remedy for that. Instead of getting straight to business as they probably should have, they spent a moment taking in the sight of each other and reacquainting themselves with the small details that they had noticed. Such as the dusting of freckles on Dean’s cheeks or the slight crinkle Castiel got in the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled.

“Nice trip?”  Dean finally asked, as he took a hold of the Inias’ reins and rubbed at his snout. The horse huffed and pushed his nose into his open palm.

“No it was awful, I hated every minute of it.”

“Oh.” He said, a little surprised at his bluntness. “Well at least you’re back now.”

“Yes.”

Dean licked his lips and looked away for a moment, suddenly unsure of himself. Around them servants were dissembling the convoy. They gathered his and Sam’s personal items so that they could be brought back to their chambers. Whilst the stable hands came out in numbers and tended to the horses.

“Your Highness, may I?” A young stable boy asked, motioning to Inias.

“Oh, of course.  I’ll just-“Castiel shifted his weight in the saddle and swung his leg over.

At the same time, Dean (rather needlessly) stepped forward to assist him. “Here let me.” He said as he put his hands on Castiel’s hips and helped him down.

Even when Castiel’s feet were firmly on the ground Dean didn’t make a move to pull away. He stayed right where he was, up close in Castiel’s personal space. But rather than feeling repulsed by it and wanting to step away, Castiel found himself leaning into his touch. He knew that this wasn’t such a good idea, and that his life would be much easier if he resisted these silly impulses. But he couldn’t, or more accurately he didn’t want to. He just wanted to seek out Dean’s touch more than ever, after all absence makes the heart grow fonder. And by the Goddess was Castiel fond of him.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah I know, but I wanted to.”

“I see.”

After hesitating for what seemed like an eternity, Dean finally kissed him.

There was very little finesse to it. And if it had been anyone other than Dean, it surely would have been a sloppy, unenjoyable kiss. However, it was anything but unpleasant.  It was soft and exploring, with a slight hint of hesitancy to it. Dean’s lips were warm, pliant and every bit as wonderful as they looked.  

The kiss, whilst lovely, was far too short for Castiel’s liking and when Dean pulled away he couldn’t help but grumble in annoyance. Not once did it occur to him that perhaps this wasn’t the best place to go about kissing Dean like that. There were too many eyes and such displays of affection were supposed to take place behind closed doors. Inlanders were prude like that. But with the way that Dean and Castiel were standing there with dopey, if not flustered, smiles on their faces it was clear that neither of them could care less.

 “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Dean admitted. They were standing so close that the tip of his nose brushed against Castiel’s. “Absolutely no idea.”

There had been that time in the storage room in which they had almost, but no, neither of them had been ready at that point.  It was much better this way. Considering that this was his first proper kiss (he didn’t feel as though the one at their wedding counted as it was under duress), Castiel was very, very pleased. It was everything he had wanted and more.

Castiel smiled, before he took a quick look around them. Inias was nowhere to be seen and the servants were nearly finished with tidying away the convoy. How long had they been standing there, so completely involved in each other?

“Come on.” Dean said, snapping Castiel out of his thoughts.  “I bet you’re cold huh? Let’s get you inside.” He held out his hand and with a flick of his fingers, beckoned Castiel to take it.

Unable to resist such an inviting offer, Castiel nodded and slipped his fingers between Dean’s. It was a perfect fit.

* * *

 

It was another cold night and outside the wind howled like a pack of starving wolves.  The shutters banged against the wall with a thud-thud-thud and somewhere in the distance a cat shrieked in panic. But inside it was warm and safe.  The fire crackled in the pit and Castiel was huddled beneath a pile of quilts, with his husband holding him close as he played with his messy, dark hair.

They had lain together like this before, but never had it felt so intimate. It had been all about exchanging body heat, keeping the cold at bay. Or so Castiel had reasoned; now it was clear that it had all been a pretence. A white lie that he had used to reassure himself that nothing had changed, that things weren’t as complicated as they first appeared. But things were complicated, and there was no use in pretending they weren’t.  There was too much at stake now, people’s lives could well and truly be on the line. And the thought that Castiel’s actions could determine whether… He shuddered to think about it, but this was his reality now. He had to be strong and he most definitely had to be careful.

 “We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.” Dean assured and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yes but-”

He cut him off. “You don’t have to be afraid of him Cas. Michael has no power here, he can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“But he-“

“I know what he said.” Dean slid his hand down till it cupped Castiel’s cheek. His thumb brushed back and forth, in a continuous, soothing gesture. “He’s dangerous, and you’re right, we can’t trust him. But what do you want me to do Cas? There’s no proof that he killed your Dad, he made sure of it. And even if there was, it’s not our problem.”

Castiel flinched away from his touch and sat up. Dean followed suit, a look of slight panic in his eyes.

“No, you know I didn’t mean it like _that_. I’m just saying that... I don’t care what he wants.  If we have kids one day, it’s because we chose to. Not because your asshole of a brother says so.” He exhaled deeply and laid back down, motioning for Castiel to him.

 And so he did.  Castiel wriggled right into his arms, back where he belonged. They lay there in silence for a while, wrangling with the thoughts and worries that were hurling around in their minds.  Dean made it all seem so easy; he made the future seem so bright. And yet all Castiel could see were storm clouds brewing on the horizon. The idea of having Dean’s children didn’t seem as nearly as scary as it once had, but even so he didn’t want to obey his brother. To bow to his whims and further his plans, whatever they were. He had made his choice and as much as he loved his homeland and people, Castiel knew that serving Michael wasn’t something he could ever take into consideration.  It would just be too dangerous and wrong.

“I know that you didn’t want this marriage,” Dean began; his voice was soft and even with their close proximity Castiel struggled to hear his words. “And neither did I to begin with. It was bullshit, you know? I didn’t even know you, hell I’d never even heard of Oceania before. But then you were amazing and I… What we’ve got now is good, amazing even. This isn’t about politics anymore, I want this marriage to be about us. Make it our own and no one else’s, not Dads, or Michael’s. Just you and me. What do you say?”

Whatever he had expected Dean to say, it hadn’t been that. This marriage was simply a means to an end, and the prospect of changing it into something else, something that mattered to them, well it made Castiel smile. Not only would it serve as a big ‘fuck you’ to Michael and all of his schemes, but it would also mean that they wouldn’t have to pretend about how they felt. They had already come this far and Castiel wasn’t sure whether he would be able to act as though nothing had changed.

Instead of responding verbally as Dean probably expected, Castiel leaned in close and kissed him soft and slow.

 “Yes.” Castiel murmured against his lips, his breath coming out in pants. “I would like that very, very much.”

Castiel had very little experience with physical intimacy, but Dean didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. It just meant that Castiel was going to have to get a lot of practice in to ensure that he got better, which was something he was rather looking forward to. And it appeared as though Dean felt the same.

* * *

“I could have sworn I put it in here.” Dean grumbled as he rummaged through his closet, tossing various boxes and satchels over his shoulder.

He had been half way through getting changed out of his nightclothes, when he suddenly remembered something. Apparently it was so important that it couldn’t wait till he was dressed and that that he had to find it now, and with not a moment to loose. So there Dean was, standing in his night shorts with a messy head of hair and increasing sense of frustration.

Before this new development in their relationship, Castiel would have averted his gaze so that Dean could get changed in peace.  Now he didn’t even try to look away. If anything, he was using this as an opportunity to get a good look at his husband’s body. He had seen it all before, but even so he couldn’t help but be impressed at how sturdy he was. Even with all of his freckles, Dean was every bit masculine and strong. His shoulders were broad and every time Dean threw some random container to the floor, Castiel was treated to the sight of his muscles shifting beneath his skin. Castiel had spent most of his life surrounded by people not wearing not much at all, and he had never thought anything of it. It was simply the way things were.  Now though, he couldn’t help but think it was a damn shame that Winchester’s climate and social norms didn’t allow for Dean to show some skin more often. Perhaps it was for the best, as Castiel wasn’t the sharing sort.

As if he could feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze, he peered over Dean’s shoulder. “You know, you could quit your gawping and help.”

“I could.” Castiel agreed, though he made no effort to get up off of the bench. Instead he took a sip of that awful tea that Missouri insisted he drink, before putting the cup back down onto the table.  “What are you looking for anyway?”

“You know in the letter? I mentioned I had something for you. But I can’t fucking find it. If one of the servants has lost it I swear to God I’ll-”

“Wait! What’s that?”

Just as Castiel had said that, Dean put a wooden box to the side. There was nothing unique or interesting about it, but Castiel felt as though he had seen it before somewhere.

“Oh this? Don’t you remember?” Dean undid the latch and opened it up. “It’s the dagger you gave me back in Oceania. Put it in here for safe keeping and sort of forgot about it, sorry.”  

Castiel waved away his apology and went so stand beside him. “So this thing, is it in a box?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty small, about this big,” he motioned with his hands, “and has the family crest on it.”

Well that narrowed it down considerably.

“What is all of this anyway?” Castiel asked as he joined Dean in rummaging through the closet.  Jewellery boxes? A book about jousting techniques?  None of these items had anything in common, other than the fact that they had all been shoved away in the cupboard and hidden out of sight.

 “Gifts mostly.  People give me all sorts of craps to try and butter me up.”

“Crap?” Castiel asked. “You think the dagger I gave you is crap?” He folded his arms across his chest and gave Dean his best, mock frown.

His eyes widened in alarm. “What? No! I just- you’re kidding with me aren’t you?”

 “A little.” Castiel touched his hip gently, his way of apologising without having to say it aloud.

It took a few more minutes of looking, but eventually they found the box that they were looking for. Dean was grinning now, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he fiddled with the clasp and opened it up. Inside the box, sitting on a plush little pillow was a horned amulet.  Honestly, Castiel hadn’t spent a lot of time wondering what the gift could be, but never had he ever thought it would be something so…strange. It didn’t exactly look like a family heirloom, or at least the sort that would belong to a royal family. Perhaps it was an Inlander thing; they were strange people after all.

“It’s certainly... interesting.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s been in the family for generations, from all the way back when we were just a hunting clan.” Carefully picking it up, Dean blew on it and then wiped off the non-existent dirt off with his thumb.

“I couldn’t possibly accept it.” It was far too precious. In fact, Castiel thought that it wasn’t the sort of gift Dean should be offering him in the first place. Not when it had such an historical and sentimental value.

“I want you to. My Dad gave it to Mum when they married, and now I’m giving it to you, it’s just something we Winchester’s do.”

If Dean was telling the truth and it was tradition, well it would be disrespectful for Castiel to refuse. Not only that, but with the way Dean was looking at him with those big eyes and pouting lips, he didn’t feel as though he had the heart to refuse him this.

“All right.” Castiel sighed and bowed his head a little. “I’ll wear it.”

With a victorious grin, Dean helped him put it on.  “There,” He said, adjusting it so the amulet hung straight. “It looks good.”

“Thank you.”

Dean leaned in and kissed him slowly and lingering, as way of showing his gratitude. The corners of his lips curved up against Castiel’s, and he couldn’t help but pull back a little to see what Dean was smiling about. By the Goddess his smile was lovely.

“What?” He asked, beginning to feel a little self-conscious at the way Dean was looking at him.

“Nothing. I was thinking I should take today off, make sure you settle in properly. I bet we could have fun together.” He winked shamelessly and Castiel’s cheeks got hot.

“Be serious.” He tried to shove Dean, but it was like pushing a wall for all the good it did. He was just so firm.

“I am!” Dean laughed and caught Castiel’s hands. He brought one to his lips and, like the gentlemen he was, pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  “I’d rather be with you than work.”

It was so tempting to just give in, to spend the day with Dean doing nothing of real import. It would be nice to establish his routine in Lawrence with Dean by his side and despite himself he was thinking of all sorts of things that they could do today. But as much as he wanted to, he knew they couldn’t. Or at least they shouldn’t. Dean had duties to tend to and he couldn’t slack off just because Castiel wanted to keep him all to himself, and vice versa.  Sometimes it was tough being the voice of reason.

“Dean, go get dressed. Please.”

He threw his arms up in surrender. “All right, all right. I will.”

Castiel sat back down on the bench and folded his arms across his chest. His smile was smug, victorious, and he thought that he could get used to this.

* * *

 

The library wasn’t a conventional setting for this sort of conversation, but with the way that Dean had stormed in and sent Victor and Benny packing; it was obvious that they were going to have this conversation again. And that they were going to have it now, whether it Castiel wanted to or not. It was something they had been bickering about for days, and whilst it wasn’t enough to cause any lasting damage between them, it was starting to annoy Castiel a little.

“I don’t understand why you are making such a big deal of this.” Castiel said, exasperated, as he watched Dean stalk back and forth, practically radiating tension.

 “You don’t know him like I do Cas. He’s gunna be pissed, I know it!”

“Why would he? We haven’t done anything wrong. If anything I thought that he would be happy for us.”

Dean stopped in his tracks and stared at Castiel for a long moment, taking his words into consideration. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He began pacing again and the floorboards creaked beneath his weight. Castiel turned to the next page in his book and was halfway through the page when Dean spoke up once more. “Since you got back from Oceania, things have been good, really good.  I don’t want that to change Cas.”

“They won’t, I’m not going to change my mind no matter what he, or anyone for that matter, says. So just tell him.”

Dean had just been about to respond, his mouth opening to shape the words, when the library doors creaked open and Sam entered the room. In his arms he carried a bundle of stationary: several rolls of paper, an inkwell and a couple of quills. Damn it, Castiel had forgotten that he had agreed to meet in here. Yesterday they had decided to write the letter to Michael together, as Sam was incredibly helpful with these sorts of things, unlike his brother.  How could he have forgotten about this?  Castiel could have sworn he had been wondering where Sam was not that long ago, twenty minutes at most. Well, he supposed that Dean did have an aptitude for distracting him.

 “Tell him what?” Sam asked, glancing between the two of them with a look of slight confusion.

“Nothing!” Dean replied, all too quickly.

Castiel was not letting him get away with it that easily, not when this was the perfect opportunity to get it over and done with “Sam, your brother has something to tell you. “He said, crossing his arms and frowning sternly.

Dean sent him a withered look that could only translate into ‘why me?’ “Yeah um… Basically what is happening is… Me and Cas, we’re, you know, together.”

“Finally.”

“Wait, what?”

Sam rolled his eyes and went to sit at the table. He laid his things out neatly, before turning to look at the two of them.  “I saw this coming from a mile away, you guys aren’t exactly subtle.”

 “But- but how?” Dean sputtered and his cheeks went bright red.

“The letters, the staring. Hell, even Jessica noticed.”

“You’re not mad?” Dean asked hesitantly, as he fiddled with his sleeve.

Now it was Sam’s turn to be surprised. “Why would I be mad?”

“See.” Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little smug. “I told you.”

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged sheepishly, not enjoying being under their scrutiny. “You didn’t want me to marry Cas in the first place. And when I did, you said I spent too much time with him, that I was getting to close.”

Sam crinkled his nose at the memory. “That was different. I didn’t know him, not like I do now.”

“You thought I was…” Castiel wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence, so he didn’t.

“I didn’t know what to think. I know you now, and I’m happy for you guys, really I am, if anyone deserves this you do.”

“Awww Sammy , that’s real sweet.” Dean grinned and roughly tousled his brother’s hair, making it seem as though he had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Sam glowered and slapped his hand away with a sharp edge of annoyance that only he could achieve.  “I was trying to be nice, you jerk! Shouldn’t you be working anyway?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave you to it.” He gave Castiel a prolonged kiss (which made Sam politely avert his gaze) and then exited the room, leaving both of them to begin work on Michael’s letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAAA DAAA! Enjoy , comment and kudos!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a fair amount of violence in this chapter, so continue reading at your own peril. You have been warned. ;p

Months passed and eventually spring arrived in Winchester.

It was still cold at first, but with each passing day, the wind, rain and snow retreated and was soon replaced with much milder weather. By no means was it as warm as Castiel was used to, but it still was a welcome reprieve from the never-ending assault of blizzards and snow storms that had set in during the later winter months.

This winter had been surprisingly harsh. The Inlanders knew that it was going to be tough, they always were. However, this one was one of the worst they had seen in years. It got to the point that they were beginning to run low on food and provisions well before spring had even arrived. And to make matters worse Castiel, along with several other inhabitants of the castle, fell ill. It wasn’t a simple case of sickness that could be cured with some herbal remedy. No, Castiel had been bedridden for weeks, barely able to sit up, let alone get out of bed. It was awful. And during the worst of it, when Castiel had been delirious and sweating with fever, the physician had confessed she wasn’t sure whether Castiel would make it. Despite the risk of infection, Dean remained by his side the whole time. He sat at Castiel’s beside, held his hand and pushed his fingers through his hair as he whispered sweet things to him, and silently prayed to his God that he would get better.

It seemed as though his God had granted them mercy, as the long winter was over now and Castiel had slowly, but surely recovered.

Back when Dean had said that he was free to do whatever he liked with the garden, Castiel hadn’t really thought about it that much. Spring had seemed so far away, and at the time he had plenty of other things to think about. Right now though, a bit of landscaping seemed like the perfect way for him to pass some time. Not only was the weather nice and warm, but he felt as though it would be good for him to get some fresh air after being cooped up for so long. Whilst it was true that it wasn’t exactly befitting for a Prince to be on his hands and knees in the mud, pulling out weeds and planting flowers, he didn’t care. This was what he wanted to do, and he’d be damned if he was going to anyone tell him otherwise. He was stubborn like that.

“Your Highness,” one of the newly hired gardeners called from behind him. “The shipment of flowers you requested has arrived. If you would follow me.”

Getting to his feet, Castiel nodded, brushed the dirt off his hands and followed the worker through the gardens. It was incredible to think that in the space of a few weeks they had already made so much progress.  All of the overgrown bushes and trees had been trimmed so that they looked neat and tidy, the paths had been covered with gravel, and the majority of flowerbeds had all been laid. Everything was going along swimmingly, and just thinking about the finished result put a spring in Castiel’s steps. He knew that he was going to spend plenty of time out here, when the weather was nice of course, and he hoped that both Sam and Dean would be willing to join out here too. Being alone was all well and good, but nothing was better than sharing company with his two favourite Inlanders.  

Coming to a stop in the centre of the garden, Castiel took a moment to inspect the batch of flowers.  They were all in good condition, brightly coloured and obviously well cared for. They looked perfect and Castiel couldn’t wait to plant them. But before he got to the fun part, there was the whole issue of payment to handle.

Castiel turned to the flower vendor. “How much would you like for them?”

“Each box is five crowns, so in that’ll be… Thirty crowns, sir.”

Castiel pursed his lips in thought and turned to look back at the flowers. There were _a lot_ of them and considering how much time it must have taken for them to grow; thirty crowns didn’t seem at all fair. Accepting such a price would greedy, disrespectful, and Castiel knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. And so, there was only one thing for it.

“I’ll give you one hundred crowns, for the lot.”

The vendor’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. “Oh thank you sir! Thank you. You are too kind sir! “He bowed awkwardly, before hurrying off to go collect his well-earned payment.

Castiel smiled as he watched the man go, but he didn’t linger for too long as there was work to be done. He had been in the process of trying to decide where the flowers would look best, when he heard a familiar sound of footsteps crunching on gravel. It was Dean; he knew that without even needing to check.

 “Glad to see you’re enjoying spending all of my money.” He said with a grin, as he came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Without hesitation or worry, Castiel leaned back into his touch and his hands settled atop Dean’s. “Well, you did say I could spend as much as I wanted.”

“True.” Dean conceded and pressed a lingering, open mouthed kiss to his neck.

During the winter months they had grown closer and become bolder in their displays of affection.  At first Castiel had been a little unsure. Not because he was a prude or anything like that, in fact back in Oceania it was considered strange for couples not to publically display their affection. Rumours would no doubt float around, questioning the state of the marriage and so on so forth. But with Castiel, it was more that this was something new and different for him. He had never had a lover before, and so it had taken him a while to get used to Dean kissing him in front of others, and making rather rude (and frankly embarrassing) jokes. Now that Castiel had gotten used it, he revelled in the attention that Dean gave him, and loved every moment of it.

Titling his neck to the side, so Dean had more room to work with, Castiel watched with amusement as the gardeners and landscapers made themselves scarce and got back to work. It was a fairly common reaction, but by now they were both used to it. The only person, who didn’t bat an eyelid, was of course Missouri. Nothing fazed her and if anything, she seemed happy for them, in a strange motherly sort of way.

“It looks nice out here.” Dean said, pulling back a little so he could speak clearly. “Do you think it’ll be done soon?”

“Hopefully.  Come see the new flowers.” Castiel tugged at his hand, and led him closer.

“They’re pretty.” Dean said as way of a compliment. “Wait, are they the flowers we saw in the meadow the other day?”

“Yes, tulips.”

“Oh Cas, you’re so romantic.” Grinning, Dean put his hand to his forehead and swooned.

Doing his best to subdue his smile, Castiel rolled his eyes and tugged at Dean’s hand. “Is there are reason you’re here? Other than to be a pest of course.”

“I was wondering if you were up for coming to court tonight.”

Castiel pursed his lips in thought. He hadn’t been to court for a long while now, not because he didn’t want to. But simply that he had been too weak to go. Now that he was feeling much better, it only made sense that he attend, so that he could put whatever rumours were floating about to rest. Court wasn’t so bad now, and the last time he had went he had actually enjoyed himself. So really, there weren’t any reasons as to why he shouldn’t go, other than him being a bit of recluse. But that was a completely different matter entirely.

“It depends…”

“On?” Dean prompted, watching him curiously.

“Whether you’ll kiss me or not.” Castiel said, blunt as always.

The corner of Dean’s lips ticked up into a smirk. He leaned in close and said: “I think I can manage that.” And then he kissed him.

It wasn’t as chaste as they used to be, they had long moved past that. But it wasn’t a lewd kiss either, the sort that belonged in the bedroom away from prying eyes. Instead, their kisses were fond, tender and more than a little bit indulging. They had settled into a niche that worked for the both of them and they never tired of each other. There was still so much for them to do, so many aspects of their relationship they still had to explore. But they were taking things steady, they never asked for too much and their hands never wandered into uncharted territory. Not yet at least.

Dean pulled away first, his eyes were hooded and his eyelashes delicately brushed against his cheeks. Castiel’s tongue darted out from between his lips, to savour the taste that lingered there. It was fruity, so Dean must have eaten something not long ago. A pie probably, as they were no doubt his favourite.

“I’ll see you this evening then.”

Castiel nodded and let go of Dean’s hand. “I’ll see you then.” He bid, before he got back to work.

* * *

 

From his seat at the head table, Castiel could oversee everything that was happening in the main hall. The Lords and Ladies mingled and discussed all the latest gossip. Prestigious warriors regaled tales of glorious and bloody battles. And the musicians played jolly tunes that were fitting for such an occasion. Nothing had changed at court, it was the same as it had always been, and frankly Castiel was grateful for that.

He knew the exact moment that Sam had spotted Jessica approaching, as he began to fidget in his seat like an excitable puppy. The boy had it bad and he didn’t even know it. Or so Castiel assumed. Going along with tradition, Jessica carefully made her way up the steps and came to a stop when she was in front of the table. She curtseyed deeply, even though she didn’t need to. The King wasn’t here, and it wasn’t as if Dean, Castiel or Sam expected her to. She was a friend after all, and according to Dean (in all likelihood) a future sister-in-law.

 “Your Highnesses,” She greeted with a wide, honest smile. She then turned to Castiel. “It’s so good to see you again in good health. The last we heard you were terribly ill.”

“Yes, but I’m feeling much better now.” Castiel assured her; flattered that she had actually been worried about him.

One of the many things that he liked about Jessica, other than her kindness and sharp wit, was the fact that she had the mind not to call attention to the obvious change in his and Dean’s relationship. She took it in her stride and not once she did stare or point out that they were holding hands. Some of the others (those who Dean wasn’t particularly fond of), had gawped, with lips downturned and had spoken with a slight edge of bitterness in their voice. Dean had assured him that it wasn’t anything personal, not really. They simply weren’t used to seeing such displays of affection, and were just making their disapproval known.  That and they were still a little resentful of how Dean had married a foreigner. But that was old news.

Castiel didn’t care about what they thought, he really didn’t. And it helped that Dean wasn’t making a big fuss of it either. They were just taking it in their stride and enjoying the evening as they should.

* * *

 

Several hours passed and it was starting to get late. But the party showed no signs of winding down anytime soon.

“Right, so this massive guy‘s coming at me.” Dean said, in the middle of telling one of his many war stories. He waved his hands dramatically, completely involved in doing this story justice. “He’s huge, as big as a bear,  and I dropped my sword like a dumbass ,so all I’ve got is this tiny little dagger.Which might as well be a toothpick for all the good it’s gunna do me.”

“What did you do then?” Jessica asked, leaning forward in her seat, eager to hear what happened next.

Dean laughed, loud and happy. “I fucking ran. There’s no way I could have taken him on my own. Those demons are tough sons of bitches.”

“Demons?” Castiel titled his head, not sure what he meant.

“Not literal demons, but they might as well be for all the damage they do.”

Sam nodded sullenly in agreement. “You know about the war, right?”

Without warning or reason, Dean pulled his hand away from his grasp.

“Only a little.” Castiel admitted with a frown. “It was your Father‘s forces against Azazel’s, right?”

 There were a few books in the library that spoke of the war, but none of them ever went into too much detail. Castiel remembered several names being mentioned, Azazel’s being one of them, but as to whom he was and why there was a war between King John and his people, and Castiel had no clue. It was as if whoever had written it down had deliberately left out some information.  He wondered if they had been ordered to, by the King perhaps?

“Yeah. So basically, Winchester used to be split into two halves.  Our land and the demon’s land.  Our Grandad, Henry Winchester, had been trying to make peace between our people for years-”

“Do we really have to talk about this now?” Dean snapped, sitting on the edge of his seat, his hands turning white as they gripped the arms of his chair.

“He deserves to know Dean.”

Dean didn’t respond.

 “As I was saying, Azazel was having none of it. He wanted all of Winchester for himself and his demons. So he killed Henry…. And, just because he could, he killed our Mum too. Dad full out declared war on him then, he’d wanted to all along but Grandad wouldn’t allow it. Now he had a reason to. So they went to war… It lasted years but Dad killed him, ran him straight through. After that, we drove the demons out and combined both of the lands and it became the Kingdom of Winchester.”

Castiel slowly took all of this information in. And then something occurred to him. “So the tapestry in the bedroom is-”

“A reminder of our legacy, lest we forget.” Dean spoke as if he was reciting words from a yellow paged book. He picked up his goblet and downed its contents, before slamming it onto the table.

A servant moved in quickly to refill it for him and Dean merely grunted in thanks.

Castiel knew that he probably shouldn’t pry anymore, that some things were best left alone.  But he was curious, he wanted to know and considering that he was married to the future King of Winchester, he felt as though it was his right to ask. Not only that, but he was an Inlander now and it was his history too.

“Are the demons still a problem?”

“Sometimes.” Dean shrugged. “They’re nomadic now, kinda like a tribe I guess. They’re usually at the borders trying to stir up shit. But there’s never many of them, nothing a few of our men can’t handle.”

“I heard they have a new leader now.” Sam mentioned, with a small but troubled frown.

“They’re always swapping leaders. First it was, Lilith, Abaddon, then Crowley. It’s just what they do Sam, don’t worry about it.”

The conversation puttered to an end there. Dean didn’t seem to want to talk about it, unless pressed to. And Sam seemed happy enough to talk quietly with Jessica, who was still sitting at his side. Now seemed as good a time as any to change the topic of conversation into something lighter and more jovial, but there was one last thing that was wiggling away in Castiel’s mind. It was a bothersome, troubling thought and he couldn’t help but want to ask about it. Glancing at Dean, he tried to judge his mood. Was he feeling better? With the way he was squinting ahead and his lips were pursed in displeasure, then no. Castiel assumed he wasn’t, so he was just going to have to tread carefully then.

Lightly touching the back of his hand, Castiel vied for his attention. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Dean turned to look at him. “Sure, if you want.”

“Sam said that both lands were combined to make Winchester,” Dean nodded in agreement and he then continued. “But what happened to Azazel’s supporters?  Surely there must have been Lords and Ladies that lived on his land and sided with him.”

“Dad didn’t take any prisoners. They either submitted to him or were executed, slowly.  It was an easy choice for most, I think.”

Castiel had expected as much. That was exactly the sort of thing he could imagine King John doing, being ruthless but wise in his judgements. Otherwise he surely would have run the risk of having a rebellion on his hands. And at the time, with Winchester being in such a state of chaos, he couldn’t have allowed that to happen. Not with demons on his doorstep.

“So there are some in court then?”

“Some.” He replied. “Do you remember Alistair? Gordon?”

“Yes.”

“Their houses used to in the south, in Azazel’s land. They say they serve Dad now, but I don’t buy it. Of course they haven’t done anything wrong, but I know they’d put the demons back in charge if they could.” Dean explained, looking over the members of court as he did so.

Neither Gordon nor Alistair were present that night.

Again they settled into a silence and the longer they sat there, the more Castiel wanted to leave. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t enjoyed himself tonight. Because for the most part he had, it was just that he didn’t like going bed too late, and that Dean wasn’t exactly the best company right now. When he was like this, all on edge and more than a little bit snappy, Castiel had learned that it was best to leave him alone and let him work it out.

“I’m feeling tired.” Castiel admitted, as he got out of his seat and made his way down the steps. “I think I should retire to bed.”  

Dean followed suit. “You know I’m not angry at you, right? I just… I don’t like talking about it, brings back bad memories.”

“I know, sorry.”

Dean shook his head, dismissing the apology. But at least he was smiling, even if it was just a small one. “I’ll come join you soon, I’ve got to talk to a couple of people first.”

He nodded. He had kept Dean all to himself tonight, so that sounded reasonable to him. Besides, sometimes it was nice to have some time to himself. Whilst he had washed himself earlier after he had finished gardening, a nice warm bath really sounded like a good idea to him.

Dean then kissed him, soft and apologetically. His hands went to Castiel’s hips and he held him close, completely lost in the moment. His fingers then slipped beneath the material of his shirt, gently brushed his skin and skimmed lower and lower the longer the kiss went on. That was a little too much for Castiel; a little too cheeky and so he pushed him back and broke them apart.

“Go on,” He grumbled, though he was unable to hide the smile on his face. “Don’t you have people to speak to?”

Dean winked and mussed up his hair, which frankly had already been messy to begin with.  “You won’t get too lonely without me, will you?”

Castiel wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. Instead, he huffed and chose to be the mature one (even though he was sure Dean was at least a couple of years older than he was). He turned away and walked out of the hall, with his two loyal guards following in tow.

* * *

 

Castiel’s first stop was the library. Reading in the bath had always been one of his guilty pleasures. And seeing as he had already finished the books he had up in his room, it only made sense that he grabbed some more whilst he could. Not only that, but he figured it would also give the servants time to set up his bath without him getting in their way. They had never outright said that he did, but the looks they sometimes gave him suggested that it was easier to work without him hovering around like a bad smell. But he didn’t take it personally; they were just trying to do their job after all.

“D’ya want me to carry them for you?” Benny asked, offering his hands out once they had left the library.

Castiel was carrying a tall pile of books and could barely see over the top of them as they walked.  Because of this, he understood why Benny had asked to help, but he really didn’t need to. It was true that he had lost weight during his stay here, but he wasn’t weak or feeble, and he was certainly able to carry a few books without any help.

 “I’m quite all right.”

“You’re as stubborn as your husband.” Benny grumbled, though he seemed happy enough to let it go.

“Why thank you.”

“I don’t think that was a compliment, your Highness.” Victor told him, completely deadpan.

Castiel laughed and nearly dropped his books.  “Perhaps.”

It was strange how his relationship with his guards had changed during his stay in Winchester.  At first they had been distant, if not completely professional. But now, they bantered with each other and even on a few occasions Benny had given him some well needed advice. And Victor… Well he was just Victor. But Castiel wouldn’t change him; he liked him exactly the way he was.

When they arrived outside of Castiel’s bedroom, Benny went to get the door for him. The servants had left it unlocked so he didn’t have to use his key; he just opened it up and gestured for Castiel to go inside.

“If you need anything just shout.” He said, leaning against the wall as he always did.

“Of course.” Castiel replied. “I’m going to bolt the door, but I’ll unlock it when I’m done.”

“You know we wouldn’t let anyone in. Even Dean.”

“Oh I know, it’s just a habit.”

“Mmm hmm. Whatever you say, your princelyness” Benny drawled, a look of mischievousness in his eyes.  

Shaking his head, Castiel entered his bedroom and nudged the door closed with his foot. The bath was set up in the middle of the room and the water was steaming hot. He put his books to the side, and pushed the bolt down, locking himself in and keeping everyone else out. He wasn’t sure why he insisted on doing it every time.  As Benny had said, whenever someone did try to enter, he and Victor would politely (and sometimes not so politely) tell them to come back at another time. The same went for late at night and early in the morning. But even so, there wasn’t much privacy to be had in such large and busy castle, so this was Castiel’s way of giving himself some ‘me time’ and ensuring that absolutely no one would interrupt him.

Taking off his boots, Castiel walked across the room to put them away in the trunk. Unlike Dean, he preferred to tidy away after himself, rather than tossing his clothes around the room like a monkey. He took off his jacket and folded it away, before putting it in the trunk as well.

A floorboard creaked and Castiel thought nothing of it. The castle was old; it made all sorts of noises, and by now he was used to it.

Sliding the various bracelets off of his wrists, he put them on the dressing table. The amulet came off next, but rather than putting it down straight away he took a moment to admire it. It was every bit as ugly as he had thought when he first saw it. But now, there was a sentimentality attached to it, a sort of affection that he couldn’t quite explain.  And often, he found himself touching it softly. As well as the wedding ring on his ring finger.

 The floorboards creaked again, louder this time. And closer.

Castiel glanced at his reflection in the mirror.  Now that spring had arrived he had more colour to his skin, looked less pasty.  He wasn’t as tanned as he had been in back Oceania, but it was something at least.

In the mirror, behind him Castiel saw movement. A dark, tall figure, who wasn’t supposed to be there. He whirled around, an accusing question on his lips. But his words dried up in his mouth when he noticed the glinting knife in the man’s hand. It was monstrous, curved and ugly. Ready to kill. The stranger said nothing; he just smiled as if this was a game that he had already won.

The man leapt forward, slashing his knife sideways .Castiel barely managed to step back in time. His back hit the dressing table and he blindly reached for something, for anything to strike the man with. A box. He grabbed it and swung it forward, smacking him square in the jaw.  The stranger stumbled back with a pained hiss and the box dropped to the floor. Something clattered out of it, sharp and silver.

“You motherfucker!” The man yelled, fire in his eyes.

“Your Highness!?” A voice called from the other side of the door.

“Cas what’s going on! Open up!”

There was a thud and the door shook on its hinges.

Castiel scrambled out of the way, trying desperately to get the door. To get away. But something snagged on his foot and he fell down with a startled cry. The man lunged at him again, knife at the ready. Castiel rolled out of the way. He missed and snarled in fury as the blade impaled the carpet.

“Get it open!”

“I can’t! The door’s locked from the inside!”      

“What the fuck is going on!?”

“It’s Cas! Someone’s in there with him!”

“FUCK!  DON’T JUST STAND THERE! GET A FUCKING AXE!”

Castiel crawled away, it just a little further. Just a little more. A hand clamped down on his leg like a bear trap, and yanked him back. Dragging him across the room, away from the door.  Castiel writhed and kicked with every bit of strength he had. But it did nothing, the man was too strong.

Oh Goddess he was going to die wasn’t he?

A hand pressed down on his throat, the fingers dug in like needles. The stranger was pinning him down in place, making sure he couldn’t get away this time. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes and Castiel uselessly groped at the hand at his neck, trying to lessen the pressure. He couldn’t breathe, his chest tightened and his vision blurred.

Something beside him glimmered like a beacon, urging him to take it and to use it. It was Dean’s blade, the one he had given him as gift. Castiel grabbed it, it was just within reach, and shoved it right into the man’s side. His grip lessened, his eyes bulged and his mouth gawped open.

Castiel yanked it out and stabbed him again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Something slammed into the door. Splinters went flying. In a few more hits it would be open; whoever was trying to get it would be able to enter.

Castiel’s hands trembled and he the dropped the dagger to the floor. Somewhere in the madness of it all, he had thrown the stranger onto his back and continued his assault. Stabbing and slashing at him like a frenzied animal. Unable to do anything but attack. He was kneeling in a pool of blood, panting loudly and unable to catch his breath.

What had he done?

He looked at his hands and they were stained red.

The door flew open. And Dean hurried in, followed by several armed guards. His eyes flickered to the mess in the room and then landed on Castiel. He was pale, but his grip on the axe was firm and steady. He was ready and able to use it need be.

“Dean?” Castiel murmured, his voice shaking.

Dean dropped the axe, hurried to his side and then sunk to his knees. “Please tell me you’re okay. Please.”

He shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“No no no. Shh.”Dean held him close and gently pressed Castiel’s face against his chest so he didn’t have to look. “It’s okay.”

Castiel gripped onto him tightly. “But I- I killed him. I didn’t mean to, I just wanted him to stop.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Garth, give me that cloth.”

There was some shuffling around. Castiel then heard a splash and the sound of dripping.  He belatedly realised that his bath water was getting cold. He would have to get in soon otherwise it would be a waste.

“Thanks.” Dean muttered, and leaned back so he could see Castiel better. With his thumb he wiped the tears from his eyes and then showed him the wet cloth. “Can I?”

“Okay.”

“Your Highness!” A guard suddenly skidded into the room, his eyes wide with panic. “Come! You must come quickly!”

Dean shot him a dark look. “Can’t it wait?”

“No your Highness, it’s your Father. He’s been stabbed!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got to excited I had to publish this early! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> And P.S I know I'm horrible. As always , comment and kudos.


	17. Chapter 17

Just as everyone had feared, the King did not recover.

It wasn’t so bad at first; he was simply bedridden as they waited for the wound on his side to heal.  But as days passed, his condition quickly began to deteriorate. The physician, the same one who had treated Castiel during his sickness, believed that the blade had been dipped in some sort of poison. A poison that she couldn’t identify and that she didn’t have a cure or remedy for. Castiel never got the chance to see the King (and frankly he was grateful for that), but according to Dean at least, the wound had festered and the skin around it had started to turn black as if it were rotting. Dean was not weak of stomach, but even he had felt sick when he had first laid eyes on it.

There was nothing anyone could do. And even the interrogation of the assassin down in the dungeons was fruitless. After five days of solid and excruciating torture, the assassin still hadn’t given any information away. In fact, he refused to speak at all. Let alone tell them who had hired him and his dead accomplice, or whether there was a cure for the King’s condition. It was clear that he was a professional, and Castiel had a feeling that the assassin would rather die than be a snitch. If he kept up the silent treatment, that would be arranged sooner rather than later. Or so Benny had told him.

Dean did his best to hide it, but Castiel knew that he was suffering. _Terribly_. Their Father’s death was fast approaching, and all Sam and Dean could do was brace for the worst of it and hope that they might be able to catch whoever was behind this. Dean threw himself headfirst into the investigation, it had been days since he had gotten a full night’s sleep, and the stress was taking a heavy toll on him. His mood had soured, and even though he had never been cruel or unkind to him, Dean felt distant. Different from the man that Castiel had grown to care for. And it made his heart clench painfully to see him this way, to know that just beneath Dean’s hard exterior he was lonely and scared.

 “Dean.” Castiel said, sitting up in bed so he could see him properly. Dean was hunched over at the desk and had been for several hours now. “It’s late, come to bed.”

“I will in a minute.” He responded without even looking up.

“You said that an hour ago.”

Dean cast an angry look over his shoulder. “You’re not a child Cas, you’re perfectly capable of sleeping on your own.”

Sleeping with Dean had always felt so natural, even on the first night he had been surprised at how easy it was to trust him, to feel safe with him laying so close. Knowing that he was on the other side of the room, poring over the same documents over and over again in the hopes that he could catch the culprit, was heart breaking. Dean was trying so hard and he was fruitlessly running himself into the ground. And yes, maybe Castiel was being selfish. He didn’t want to have to wake up trembling and alone after another nightmare, he couldn’t do that again. Not tonight. He didn’t want to have to worry that there was another assassin lurking in the dark, waiting to strike. He just wanted to sleep, safe and sound with his husband holding him close. Castiel was desperately trying to be strong, to be there for his husband when he needed it most. But it was so hard when Dean was like this. It  was as though he was swimming against the current and try as Castiel might; his strength and will were both fading.

Shoving the blankets out of the way, Castiel climbed out of bed and walked across the room, being careful to keep his footsteps light. As it was late after all, and most of the inhabitants of the castle were asleep.

“Castiel.” Dean warned, his voice cold and irritable.

 “No. We have to talk about this.”

Dean stood up from his seat and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. Even with the dim candlelight, Castiel could see how defensive he was, how on edge he was.  Dean clearly felt cornered and he was readying himself for some sort of fight, as if all the tension between them was finally coming to a head. But that wasn’t what Castiel wanted. He wasn’t here to argue. He just wanted to hold him, so that was what he did. He wrapped his arms around him and held Dean in a tight hug. There wasn’t much tact to it, but that was the point. Castiel was being open and honest, he had nothing to hide and he was telling Dean that he was going to be there for him whether he wanted him to be or not. Dean stiffened at his touch, and his hands moved to push him back.

“Please,” Castiel murmured, as he clung onto him tightly, refusing to let go. He would not lose Dean, he couldn’t lose him. “Don’t push me away.”

Dean wavered for a moment, unsure as to what to do with himself. And then his hands settled on Castiel’s hips where they belonged and he pulled him a little closer against his chest.  “I’m sorry.” He said.

 “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, as if he couldn’t say anything else.

They stood like that for a long while. Dean clung onto him as if he were feared that he would lose himself otherwise, that he would become an unrecognisable stranger. Eventually, he sagged into Castiel’s touch; his exhaustion had caught up with him. Castiel was more than willing to take the brunt of his weight, to support him when he needed it most. His hands smoothed up and down his back, consoling him and silently offering him comfort and affection. It was only when Dean started to get too heavy, did he pull back.

“Come on,” Castiel said, taking a hold of his hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Dean nodded numbly.

At the other end of the room, by the side of the bed, Castiel began to undress his husband. There was nothing sexual about it, now was not the time and neither of them were in the mood. Castiel was just helping him, and even if it meant that he had complete such basic tasks for him, then so be it.  It was his duty to care for him as a husband, but he was also doing this because it felt right. Because when Castiel had been beside himself over the death of his Father, Dean had supported him in every way that he possibly could.

“Sit.” Castiel told him, once he had neatly folded up his shirt and put it to the side. It was time to take his boots and trousers off and Castiel didn’t want to try doing that with him standing up.

Dean did as he was told. “Thanks.”

Once Castiel had tugged off his boots and (with some difficulty) his trousers, he helped Dean put on his night clothes and then they finally climbed into bed. The process had taken longer than Castiel would have liked, but they were cuddled up in bed now. Dean was where he belonged and by the looks of it, he would soon fall asleep. His eyes had fluttered closed and he his breathing was gradually becoming slower and more even. By no means would things be any better in the morning, King John wasn’t going to miraculously recover and the culprit wasn’t going to hand himself in just like that. No, things would be just as awful as they were now. But at least tomorrow they would be able to face their issues with a clear mind, and at least they would still be together.

Hugging Dean a little tighter, Castiel pressed a kiss to his forehead and sleepily bid him goodnight, before succumbing to sleep himself.

The next morning they woke up to the news that the King had passed away in the early hours.

* * *

King John’s funeral was fit for a king.

It seemed as though the whole population of Winchester had turned up to pay their respects.  Dean gripped onto Castiel’s hand throughout the whole ceremony, uncaring of how the Lords and Ladies looked on, eager to see how he was handling the loss of his Father. Even though Castiel could clearly see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t cry. He simply stood there, resolute and grim faced as he listened to the bishop talk on and on about how John had been a firm, but wise King. And that he was now in a better place, that he looking down on them from heaven with their God by his side.

Castiel had never been in the cathedral before. He had seen it from a distance on more than one occasion, but that hadn’t done it any justice. It was magnificent building, with an impossibly tall painted ceiling, rows upon rows of stained glass windows and a seemingly endless stretch of marble arches.  For a religion that was rather dull, (and in Castiel’s opinion had too many rules and regulations), their place of worship was staggeringly extravagant. The crosses were solid gold and there were marble statues of a woman carrying an infant boy, as well as an emaciated man pinned to a cross. But despite its sheer impressiveness, Castiel would never willing enter it on his own accord. Admiring the architecture was one thing, but it made his skin crawl to be in there. He didn’t belong, it felt unnatural and despite the size the cathedral didn’t have that same sense of openness that his little chapel had. There was no privacy here and there were too many eyes. Still, it wasn’t as if Castiel had any choice. The King was dead, his Father- in-law was dead, and appearances were everything.

Giving Dean’s hand a reassuring squeeze, Castiel leaned forward a little so he could see Sam. Sam was standing by his brother’s side, his expression was similar to his, but it was a little softer and not as harsh. Castiel had never really seen the King and Sam interact, but from what he could tell their relationship had always seemed a little strained. That they didn’t always see eye to eye and that often caused tension between them.

The burial casket was soon lowered into the hole and a heavy stone slab was pushed across it, sealing it away forever.  John was buried beside his wife; after all it was obvious that was what he would have wanted. It was a family tradition, the last seven generations of the Winchester royal family had all been buried there. And when Sam and Dean died, they would both be buried there too. It was a morbid thought, but Castiel couldn’t help but wonder what they would do with his body. Would they bury him here as well, despite his faith? Or would they send him back to Oceania where he would be buried at sea, like his Father, and his father before him?

Dean tugged sharply at his hand.  And without even needing to say anything, Castiel knew that he wanted to leave. There was no point in hanging around, and Castiel could tell that Dean wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with the nobles. From the looks of it, Sam felt the same way. The best course of action that came to mind, was to go back home and retreat somewhere quiet. The brothers needed time to heal, time to process this all and being out in public like this wasn’t doing them any favours.

“Go head.” Castiel told them.  “I’ll catch up.”

The brothers exchanged a look, but rather than protest or complain they simply nodded. The sea of nobles parted to let them through, and they hurried along, talking quietly amongst themselves as they went.

Castiel turned to Lord Singer, who had been standing nearby all the while. Other than Samuel Campbell and his side of the family (Dean had once told him that they had never been close to the Campbell’s), Robert Singer was the closest thing to family they had left. And so it only felt right for him to approach him about this.

“Lord Singer.” Castiel said as way of greeting.

“Your Highness.” He dipped his head.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was wondering… Will they be all right?”

Robert pursed his lips in thought.  “I should think so. They’re strong boys, they’ll get through this.”

If he was sure then, Castiel didn’t have anything to worry about, right? But still, Castiel worried. And Lord Singer seemed to pick up on that, if that look he was giving him was any clue.

“I don’t know you very well, and yeah this might be out of my place to say. But whatever you’re doing, keep it up. I haven’t seen them this happy in years, since they were kids in fact.  They’re tough, they’ll get over this.”

Lord Singer didn’t seem to be the type offer false reassurances, and neither was he the sort of man to say something that he didn’t mean. “Thank you.” Castiel told him, before he turned away from him and followed in the footsteps of the Princes.

* * *

 

They had all gathered in the King’s study, well it was Dean’s study, now that Castiel thought about it. It was a little strange, but he could see Dean working in here, he could imagine him sitting on the wingback chair, scowling as he looked over some sort of document or letter. But that wasn’t what they were in there for. They were arguing, or more accurately Dean was arguing, whilst he and Sam looked on and exchanged tired looks.  Dean kept singing the same old song, and no matter how much anyone told him otherwise he just wouldn’t budge. Castiel had tried to keep out of it, to allow Dean and the others to work it out on their own, but of course Dean had insisted that he come along anyway. And being the sap that he was, Castiel hadn’t been able to refuse such an offer.

“Is all of this necessary?” Dean complained, as he gestured to the papers stacked on the table. He picked up a sheet at random and read it aloud, sounding completely aghast. “Three hundred royal banners to be posted at strategic locations in the city. _Three hundred_? And what does strategic locations even mean anyway?”

Two weeks had passed since the King’s funeral, and whilst Dean and his brother were  still in mourning, it was time for the kingdom to turn its attention elsewhere. The date for Dean’s coronation was fast approaching and there were still plenty preparations to be made. Unsurprisingly, Dean showed very little interest in the ceremony, and instead was far more focused on his ongoing investigation.  It had gotten so bad that Sam had to resort to calling on Lady Ellen Harvelle, a widow and close friend of the royal family, to intervene. Castiel knew that Dean still wasn’t happy with the whole situation, but for some reason Ellen had the impressive skill of keeping him in line, whether Dean wanted that or not.

Ellen snatched the paper from him and put it back down on the table. “It’s a coronation, of course it’s necessary.”

“It’s a waste of money,” he said. “There’s hundreds of other things we could spend it on. The investigation-”

“Boy, you’ve been working yourself into the ground, and guess what?  You’ve gotten nowhere.  We’ll find them, you know we will. But in the meanwhile you’ve got other things to do. So do them.” Lord Robert cut in, having only just entered the room.  He was carrying even more papers in his hands, and the sight of them made Dean recoil.

 “You shouldn’t call me boy.” Dean grumbled, sounding like a scolded child.

“Yeah, well you’re not King yet. I can call you what I like.”

Sam snorted in amusement.

Robert put the paperwork down onto the table and then turned to Castiel, much to his surprise. “See if you can talk some sense into him, your Highness. God knows he won’t listen to any of us.” He muttered, ensuring that Dean couldn’t hear what he had said.

It wasn’t exactly his place to intrude but…. Dean did look stressed. They had been in there for a couple of hours now, going over the paperwork that had all been sorted out by various servants and members of staff who had been hired to organise such a big and important event. The only reason they had dragged Dean there in the first place was to get his approval. And as it stood right now, they weren’t going to get that. Not with the mood that he was in.

“Come on,” Castiel said as he approached his husband. He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and offered him his most comforting smile. “We’ve all been in here long enough, let’s have a break.”

At first Dean regarded Castiel with suspicion. It was clear that he had seen Robert mutter something to him, and so in all likelihood he was trying to figure out what had been said. But as soon as Castiel touched him and smiled like that, all of his apprehension melted away.  His responding smile was soft and earnest, and without thought he leaned into Castiel’s touch.

“Yeah, you’re right. How about we have a break, meet up again after lunch?”

* * *

 

“Talk to me.” Castiel told Dean, as they strolled along hand in hand through the gardens, their boots crunching on the gravel.

He knew it was a long shot, and that there was no guarantee that Dean would even want to talk in the first place. But he knew something about this coronation was bothering him, that he had been keeping it bottled away and that if he continued to do so, it would probably end badly for everyone involved. Castiel was well aware that Dean could be mule headed. He would rather put up a front and pretend everything was all right when it wasn’t. But Castiel wasn’t willing to tolerate that, they had promised that they would be honest and open with each other and if Dean didn’t play his part then Castiel would call him out on that immediately.

Still, that didn’t mean he was going to force the truth out of him. Castiel was smarter than that. He had deliberately suggested that they talk a walk in the gardens, because not only was the weather surprisingly nice that day, but it was also a calming and safe environment.  They were few prying eyes and ears about, so if Dean did feel like talking to Castiel this was the place to do it.

“About?” Dean asked.

“The coronation.”

Dean pulled in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Figured you’d corner me about this, didn’t think you’d be so blunt though.”

“I’m not known for my tact,” Castiel admitted with a shrug. “Perhaps it’s something I should work on.”

“You probably should.”

So was that his way of saying that he didn’t want to talk about it? Was it his way of changing the topic? Just by his touch alone Castiel could easily gauge Dean’s mood. His palms weren’t sweaty, his grip wasn’t slack or loose and with the way that he was swinging their hands between them, it was fairly obvious to Castiel that Dean’s mood was pleasant enough.

“I know that it’s bothering you, and that you don’t want it to be so extravagant. But if it’s truly the problem, then surely some compromises could be made. Perhaps three hundred banners could be one hundred and fifty instead. If you talk to Robert and Ellen about it – _calml_ y- then I’m sure they would listen.”

“I know.” Dean agreed. He didn’t look convinced. “But it’s not that.”

Castiel frowned. “Then what is it then?”

“I’ve been preparing for this all my life, you know? Ever since I was old enough to understand they were all telling me that’d I’d be King one day, that I’d sit on the throne and take Dad’s place. I was thrilled about it, who doesn’t want to be a King when they’re a kid? But as I got older I realised it’s not all fun and games, it’s actually a really shitty job.  It’s all well and easy when times are good, and everything’s peaceful.  But then times get bad and you have to make all the hard choices, so many lives depend on you and…” Dean sighed and rubbed his face with his spare hand. “I just thought I’d have more time.”

Being King wasn’t nearly as easy as it seemed on the surface, there was more to it then standing around and acting all important.  And Dean was right; when a Kingdom was flourishing it more or less governed itself. The people were well fed, had work to do and so they could provide for themselves and their families. But when things were bad, when the Kingdom was under attack by invaders or disease, it was a far more difficult task. The wealthy often had no trouble keeping themselves afloat, as they had deep pockets. But during such hardships, it was always the poor who suffered. And knowing that single decision could determine whether they got to eat, whether they got to live or die, that was not a burden that Castiel would ever want to bear.

 “I cannot imagine the strain you are under, but I know you are strong enough.” Castiel said as he tugged Dean to a slow stop. He wanted his full attention now, and he knew it would be easier to hold it if they stayed in one place. “And I know in my heart that you will be a good King, you just need to have faith in yourself.”

Castiel had thought that his words would reassure him, that they would help put his worries to rest, but the scowl that appeared on Dean’s face strongly suggested otherwise.

“Yeah, when you put it like that it sounds **_so_** easy doesn’t it? Have faith, everything will be fine.” Dean scoffed. “Do you really think everything is fine though? Really? Someone killed my dad and they tried to have you killed too, does that seem fine to you?” He let out a heavy breath and shoulders sagged. “This country’s a fucking mess, I’ve haven’t got a clue how I’m supposed to fix it and all anyone cares about is this damn coronation!”

Castiel was stunned into silence. He yanked his hand away, much to Dean’s obvious surprise, and took a step backwards to put some space between them.  “I understand that this is hard for you Dean. This is an impossible situation, one that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. But whether you like it or not you are going to be King, you are going to apprehend whoever was responsible for your Father’s death and you are going to fix this country.” He told him, his voice firm and authoritative.

Dean stared, unsure of what to make of that as he had never heard Castiel speak like that. He was quite for a long while, but eventually he responded, his quieter than before. “So I’ve just gotta… Play my part?”

“Yes. And I will play my part as well.”

“Your part?”

 “I am your husband and one day I bear your children.”

“Oh.” Dean said, and slowly nodded in understanding. He stepped closer, took a hold of Castiel’s hand again, and used his thumb to stroke the back of it. “Does that bother you?” Dean sounded worried, concerned as to what Castiel would say.

“It used to.” He admitted, glancing up at Dean’s face and smiling a little at the affectionate gesture. “But not anymore.” And that was all he was going to say on that topic for now.

Thankfully, Dean didn’t push at it. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to be miserable being my dear and beloved husband.”

“And neither would I want you to be miserable being the all-powerful King of Winchester.” He teased back.

Dean snorted and nudged him with his shoulder playfully. “All right, all right I get it. You’ve got the short end of the stick.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that. Being married to you isn’t so bad.”

“You get to wake up to my beautiful face every morning, what’s not to love?”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh. This was ridiculous, but it was nice. It seemed as though things had settled between them, that they were more at ease.  By no means had the situation been magically fixed, but their feelings were out in the open and they both understood that things were difficult for the both of them. The way Castiel saw it though, as long as they were together and they had their friends and allies to support them surely things could only get better.

 Castiel pulled at Dean’s hand to lead him out of the gardens. “We should head back, they’ll be waiting for us.”

Dean smiled and stole a quick kiss, not that Castiel was complaining. Not at all. “Only if we nip to the kitchens quickly and grab something for lunch.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He said, and hand in hand the duo headed inside, ready to help with the preparations for Dean’s coronation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you repeat a word too much and it stops sounding like a word? This is how I feel about this chapter.   
> Sorry it took so long, but I had trouble with this one. It took far longer than I would have liked.


	18. Chapter 18

This was it, today was the day that Dean would be crowned King of Winchester.

Once again the cathedral was filled to the brim with Lords and Ladies all dressed in their finest, as they stood either side of the aisle, eagerly awaiting the start of the ceremony. After Castiel had persuaded Dean to see reason, the preparations for the coronation went along rather smoothly. Dean still insisted that he didn’t want it to be an overly extravagant affair, but even he recognised the importance of keeping face, of ensuring that his coronation was up to par with his Father’s and the coronations that came before that.

And so, there Castiel was standing at the front of the cathedral watching as Dean got down onto his knees, clasped his hands together in front of him and closed his eyes. Castiel couldn’t hear what he was saying, he was too far away, but he imagined that it was some sort of prayer, a religious rite that was part of the ceremony. When Castiel glanced around the room, he noticed that everyone else had bowed their heads and that their lips were moving as well. Castiel wouldn’t have been able to join in with them even if he wanted to, as he obviously did not follow their religion or even know what they were saying, so he merely watched and waited, curious to see what would happen next.

Soon the prayer drew to a close and ceremony truly began. Dean still remained on his knees, listening attentively as the Bishop prattled on and on. Why were ceremonies in Winchester so dull? Perhaps it was because Castiel was an outsider, that he couldn’t truly see the merit and cultural importance in them. Or perhaps it was because he was used to more lively affairs, coronations in Oceania were joyous occasions, they were something to be celebrated and revered.  There was no standing around like this, looking solemn and bored. Either way it didn’t matter, and Castiel tried not to think about it too much lest he distracted. Instead, he turned his attention towards his husband and within a moment of looking at him, he had trouble looking away.

Even when he had first laid eyes on Dean, Castiel had thought that he was handsome, gorgeous in a pale, foreign sort of way. And yet, the more time Castiel spent with him the more attractive he became. He often found himself taking in small details about him, such as how his calloused, thick fingers gripped the hilt of a sword. How he would throw his head back and make a Goddess awful noise when he laughed. And how, in their private moments when they were in bed together his eyes would be warm with such honest affection. His hands that had killed dozens of men, if not hundreds, were so gentle and soft that Castiel could never imagine Dean hurting him. In fact, he could only imagine Dean doing wonderful things with those deft hands of his.  He was smitten; there was no way around it.  And seeing Dean kneeling there, head bowed and beautifully regal, it only made Castiel’s feelings towards him that much stronger. If that were even possible.

The bishop waved, and the crown bearer came forward, his hands steadily holding the pillow on which the crown rested. Castiel had never seen a Winchester crown before after all, this one was only supposed to be worn on special occasions, and John clearly had no interest in wearing his when he didn’t need to. And yet, now that Castiel had laid eyes upon one he couldn’t help but be impressed by what he saw.  It was nothing like an Oceanic crown, they were all style and flair, an obvious and expensive status symbol.  But with this crown, Dean’s coronation crown, the design was more subtle, solid gold encrusted with precious stones that glinted in the sunlight. It looked heavy, as it should be, as wearing the crown and being King should be a burden, not a pretty accessory or something to be taken for granted.

The bishop draped a heavy, deep red cloak over Dean’s shoulders and then gestured for him to stand. Without a word, Dean got to his feet and turned to face the crowd in the cathedral. His expression was stern and Castiel could tell that he wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, that he was just seeing a bunch of faces and he wasn’t putting names to them. Then his gaze moved to Castiel and it focused, Dean _saw_ him. A smile curved at his lips, small and reassuring. Dean flicked his fingers, motioning for him to come over, to stand to beside him, and despite the obvious gesture Castiel was befuddled.

He hadn’t been told about this, no one had mentioned he would have to participate in the ceremony. Was this just Dean acting out on his own, or had they kept him in the dark for a reason? Castiel would have liked to have a moment to try and figure out it, but he didn’t have the chance. People were staring, watching him expectantly and Dean was starting to look a little impatient, perhaps a little concerned as well. So he went to him and did his best to ignore the weighty stares that were aimed at his back.

Dean took a hold of his hand and threaded them together before giving it a squeeze. Castiel had been happy enough standing at the front of the room, able to see what was going on but not being the centre of attention. But now everyone was staring and there was no way for him to avoid it. At least they weren’t glowering; it was obvious that no one had the nerve to do such a thing when Dean was present. Instead, the nobility watched on with proud smiles, ready to swear fealty to their new King.

“Do you all swear that you will serve me as you served my Father?” Dean asked, his voice firm and loud enough to carry all the way to the back of the cathedral. “Loyally and without question? Will you serve the interests of my Kingdom, and my family for years to come?”

“Yes your Majesty.” They all responded in unison.

There was a rustle of clothing and in waves the nobles all bowed down to their King in submission and in recognition of his new title. For a moment Castiel was stunned, just taking in the view of everyone bowing before Dean. And then he realised that literally everyone was bowing. The Bishop was bowing, Lord Singer was bowing, Lady Ellen Harvelle was bowing and even Sam was bowing. There Castiel was, holding onto Dean’s hand as if he were exempt from paying Dean his respects. Castiel jolted at the revelation and tried to pull his hand away so that he could bow, but Dean didn’t let him.

“No,” Dean spoke quietly, for Castiel’s ears only. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But tradition-”

“Tradition can go screw itself, I’m King and I say that you don’t have to bow for me. Ever.”

Castiel didn’t really understand where Dean was coming from, and it showed on his face. “Oh, well… If that’s what you’d like.”

“It is.” He insisted. “The way I see it, we’re on equal footing. No your Majestys or whatnot, I’m still just Dean.”

Castiel nodded slowly, so that was what he was getting at.  It was true Dean’s title and rank had changed, but he was still just Dean, not that Castiel would ever describe him as ‘just Dean.’ It was incredibly underwhelming and inaccurate, there was so much more to him then what appeared on the surface. And whilst it had taken him a while to realise that, Castiel knew better now, he had seen first-hand how incredible of a man he was.

“Just Dean.” Castiel agreed, a smile tugging at his lips.

He glanced back at the crowds, they had gotten a little carried away and it was apparent that they had finished with their bowing. Dean didn’t look at all phased about it; and instead he resumed that serious expression of his and went to speak again.

“Then God bless you all.” Dean said, signifying the end of the ceremony.

* * *

 

Despite all of his worries and concerns, Dean settled into the role of King rather well. Long before his Father’s death he had been in a position of authority as the captain of the royal army, and so the sudden change couldn’t have been such a drastic shock to his system. Not to mention he had years to prepare for this, to learn how to rule and govern Winchester in the best possible way. So really, Castiel didn’t understand Dean’s initial panic, even when he tried to be as sympathetic about it as he could.

The nobility seemed to respect Dean’s authority and during the days that passed they didn’t stir up any trouble or make things difficult for their new King. They were as obedient and as loyal as they had sworn to be, and it was clear that Dean was grateful for that. He had more than enough on his plate without having to deal with rebellious nobles. With such an increase in his workload, Castiel didn’t get to see his husband as much as he would have liked. The transition between John’s ruling and Dean’s wasn’t at all rocky, but there were changes that Dean wanted implemented and things like that weren’t going to happen on their own.

Luckily for Castiel, Dean seemed to miss sharing his company as well, so they made a compromise. Castiel spent time in his study and helped him do whatever work had to be done. Dean reassured him that this would only be temporary, that there was more to being a King then sitting around signing documents and writing letters, but honestly Castiel didn’t mind so much.

“Your brother sends his condolences _and_ his congratulations. He doesn’t play around does he? Smarmy asshole.” Dean said, as he stood by the window and looked down at the letter in his hand. With a grin, he scrunched it up into a ball and threw it Castiel, who just managed to duck out of the way in time. It bounced to the floor, where Castiel would likely pick it up in a moment.

“No, unlike someone I know.” Castiel replied dryly, before turning his attention back to the letter he was composing. Or at least he was trying to, Dean’s childish meddling wasn’t helping.

“Ha ha ha, very funny.”

Castiel smirked at his wit. “I try.”

“Seriously though,” Dean said as he stepped away from the window and leaned on the wingback chair Castiel was sitting on. “What should I do about him? I’ve got a feeling that he’s gunna start meddling soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“It only makes sense, right? Why else would he be sending all of these letters and gifts? Not to mention what he said to you back in Oceania.”

Dean did have a point there, Castiel had always assumed that Michael had some sort of plan in mind for Winchester, but there was no way of knowing what that plan entailed.  It was obvious Dean didn’t want to sit around and wait, that he wanted to cut Michael off before he could even make his move. And frankly, Castiel had to agree with him there. Michael wasn’t the sort who could be left to his own devices.

“Politely refuse any further gifts he offers you.” Castiel suggested, putting his quill down on the table. “You don’t want to give him any more leverage then he already has. And I’d suggest that if he gave, or lent your Father any money then you should start paying him back sooner rather than later.”

Dean nodded slowly with a set frown on his face. “What else can I do?”

“Just be cautious, if he tries to coerce you into doing something you don’t want to, firmly remind him that you are King, and that you’re not going to take any of his shit.”

He laughed. “I think I can do that.” Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of Castiel’s head, before he quite obnoxiously ruffled up his hair.  “I’ll leave you to writing your letter then.”

* * *

 

Days past and a strange thought lingered in Castiel’s mind. It wasn’t anything drastic or worrying and it certainly didn’t sour his mood, but it was there, niggling away and the more he thought about it, the more it confounded him.  Castiel knew what the best course of action was, keeping it smothered away in his mind wasn’t helping, and he knew it was something that Dean would want to discuss. He deserved to know after all.

The only issue Castiel had was the timing of it. Dean’s workload, thankfully, was thinning so it meant he had more time to spend with him. More time that they could be together. But finding the right moment itself was difficult, and Castiel had never been one for subtly. So he decided that he wanted to talk about it right there and now.

“Dean, can we talk?”

Dean turned to him; he seemed surprised, if not a bit curious. “Of course, what’s on your mind?”

“I want to talk about our wedding night, back in Oceania.”

The colour drained from his face, and Dean unceremoniously dropped his nightshirt to the floor. He stood there, half naked, before he regained himself and sat on the end of the bed. “Okay” He said hesitantly. “So what about it?”

Castiel had been mentally preparing a speech on this for a while now, but the worried look on Dean’s face wiped that slate clean. He was worrying him. No, this wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Dean must have assumed that something was wrong, but it wasn’t and Castiel had to get that across.

“I don’t blame you for what happened. It…” This sounded so much simpler in his head, but he pushed on nonetheless. “It was a difficult situation for the both of us, neither of us wanted it. And I know for certain that if the situation were different you wouldn’t have done that. So I…  I forgive you.”

  1.   It wasn’t quite like a weight off of his chest, but he felt better for saying it. For clearing the air between them. 



Dean was quiet, and the longer the silence stretched on the more Castiel worried that he had miscommunicated something, that he had fuddled up his words and gave Dean the wrong impression.  Dean shifted on the bed, his brow furrowed in thought. He didn’t look upset at least and Castiel clung onto that.

“Why didn’t you say this before?”

Before? Oh, he meant on the beach. Dean had tried to approach the situation, but Castiel had shot him right down and had refused to even acknowledge what had happened. It had put a strain on them and their relationship, but they had worked through it. Or at least Castiel thought they had.

“I wasn’t ready.” He admitted with a weak shrug. “I’m not very good with such things; I didn’t want to think about it for a long while. It was in the past and I wanted it to stay that way.”

“Did I hurt you?”                     

“No, you were surprisingly gentle. It was appreciated.”

He breathed a long sigh of relief, and Castiel could see the weight lifted from Dean’s shoulders. “Thank God.” He muttered, and shook his head a little, as if trying to chase an ugly thought away.  “I’m glad you wanted to tell me this, but why? Why bring it up now?”

“Because I want to have sex with you.”

Dean’s eyes bulged and he stared wide eyed at him as if he couldn’t possibly believe what he had just heard. As if what Castiel had said was so impossible it warranted such an extreme and dramatic reaction. “ _What_?! You mean like right now?!”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Calm down.”

Dean dragged in a deep breath and got up off the bed. He paced up and down the room, his hands racking through his hair. “Okay… So what do you mean then? If you don’t mean _that_. Cause I’m getting mixed signals here Cas.”

Tutting, Castiel shifted on the bed, and vaguely noticed how intently Dean was watching him. As if he couldn’t or didn’t want to look away. “I meant that eventually, when the time is right, I want to have sex with you.”

That earned Castiel a squinted look. “And this has nothing to do with what your brother said? The whole heir thing?”

“Of course not. It’s what I want, and I feel in no way obligated to do so.”

Dean stared some more and after a moment, he shook his head in disbelief.  “I can’t believe you sometimes, you drive me crazy.”

Castiel smiled and got up off of the bed. He went over to Dean and stood in front of him, blocking off his path. “In a good way, I hope?”

Raising his hand, Dean cupped his cheek and bowed down a little so he could press a kiss to Castiel’s waiting lips. It was soft, reverent and it clearly answered Castiel’s question without even uttering a single word. Dean seemed to feel the need to clarify though, as he pulled back a moment later and murmured words for his ears only.

“In the best way.” 

Castiel hummed, content, and tilted up to press a kiss to his husband’s jaw. His own hand was cupping Dean’s opposite cheek, enjoying the slight feel of stubble that was emerging there. “Good.” He said, and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against Dean’s.

* * *

 

It had been weeks since their conversation in the bedroom, and whilst Castiel was sure that Dean had both understood and agreed on his points they still had yet to have sex. Frankly, Castiel wasn’t worried about it. As he had said, it would happen when it happened and there was no point in them fussing about it or trying to force it. In saying that, now that Castiel had stated his interest in such things, Dean did seem more… Touchy, both in and out of bed. The attention wasn’t unwelcome; in fact Castiel rather enjoyed it and reciprocated whenever he got the opportunity too. Which meant that if Dean grabbed his ass when they were out on a walk in the gardens, Castiel would have to return the gesture, much to the scandal of on looking gardeners.

Despite how much fun they had with each other, both Castiel and Dean understood that such displays of affection were not always appropriate.  For example, when Dean was sitting in the throne room, passing judgements and listening to various complaints from his Kingdom’s inhabitants, it wasn’t at all appropriate that they be close like that. Castiel was allowed to be present, he was even provided with a very comfortable and plush seat to sit on, but he wasn’t allowed to intervene unless invited to.

The throne room was grand and long, and prior to Dean becoming King, Castiel had never set foot in it before. There hadn’t been a reason for him to enter, and from what he could tell the former King didn’t see to this duty as often as he should.  The throne sat in the back of the room, atop a small staircase so that the King could look down on his subjects, who stood either side of the red carpeted aisle. The room was well lit, and had rows of large windows, and on the spaces on the walls where portraits of the various Kings that had followed before. King John’s picture had yet to be added to the collection, but King Henry’s was there and he looked every bit as kingly as Castiel had imagined.

“So let me get this straight,” Dean said, shifting agitatedly on his throne. He was bored, that much was obvious.  “You think he owes you money because your… What was it again?”

“A goat.” The farmer told him.

“Because your goat died on his land?” Dean gestured to the other farmer, who as standing in front of him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes sir.”

Dean sighed sagged down in his seat. He turned to Castiel and whispered. “Really? Is this the sort of shit I have to deal with?”

Castiel had a hard time hiding his amusement. “Apparently so.”

He snorted and turned his attention back to the squabbling farmers. “And did he kill your goat?”

“No sir, he didn’t. A wolf got it.”

“Then it wasn’t his fault that the goat died?”

“Uhh no sir.”

“Then why should he have to pay you? If anything the wolf’s the one who you money? Have you asked him?”

“Have I asked the wolf? No sir.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully and now Castiel was really having a hard time supressing his smile. Dean was doing this on purpose; there was no other way around it. He put his hand in front of his mouth and coughed, trying to mask his laughter. The Lords who were in attendance cast him an odd look, but Castiel coolly ignored them. He would have to have a word with Dean later.

“Why not?” Dean asked, still completely serious.

The farmer looked unsure and shifted nervously on the spot. “Umm, because it’s a wolf sir. That would be pointless.”

“Yes, almost as pointless as this. He doesn’t owe anything, we’re done here.” Dean concluded and waved them off.

The farmers hurried out of the throne room and as soon as they were gone Dean turned to his newly elected advisor, Lord Robert Singer.  “Is that the last of them?”

“No. “He said, checking the sheet of paper in his hands.

 Castiel snuck a quick glance and noticed that the list was long, very long. They would be here for a while yet. It was a good thing that he didn’t bore easily; otherwise he would have left a long time ago. Then again, if he had done that he would have felt bad for leaving Dean. So perhaps this was for the best.

Dean grumbled unintelligibly at that. “Fine. But next time get someone else to deal with such…”Dean trailed off, searching for the word.

“Trivialities?” Castiel supplied, always happy to help.

“Yeah, trivialities. I’m a busy man you know; I don’t have time for goats.”

Robert raised an eyebrow at that, but wrote something down on the paper anyway.  “How about Sam? I’m sure he could find time to.”

“Sam? Oh yes, we’ve got to do that. Can you imagine his face?”  He laughed loudly at that, and few of the Lords joined in as well, as if they agreed with him.  “Oh God he’s going to hate me, but it’ll be worth it. Right then, send in the next one.” Dean called, as righted his crown on his head, as it had titled a little with all of his fidgeting.

Castiel looked forward, expecting to see another subject enter the room and approach the throne.  But there was no one. He turned to look at Dean to see if he knew what was going on, but Dean simply shrugged and began drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. What were they waiting for? Usually it didn’t take this long. Castiel turned to look at the guards who were in position either side of their seats. Castiel didn’t know them personally like he did Benny and Victor, as these were members of the Kings guard and were not so inclined for casual conversation. But he trusted in their abilities (even if they allowed King John to get stabbed), so if they were starting to look unnerved it had to be for a reason.

There was the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor and a panicked stranger appeared in the doorway. Benny held his arm out and stopped the man in his tracks, but that didn’t seem to affect the man’s haste. Castiel knew the moment that he saw him, that this man was Oceanic. It wasn’t his clothes that gave him away, but rather the colour of his skin. It was far too tanned for an Inlander; it was sun kissed, the same colour that Castiel’s skin used to be.  But what was he doing here? And why did he look so insistent?

“Your Majesty!” His accent confirmed it; he was most certainly from Oceania. “I have an urgent message from King Michael!”

“Let him through.” Dean said, ignoring the hissed warnings from his Kings guard.

Benny and Victor shot Dean a disapproving look, but let the messenger through nonetheless. He hurried his down the aisle and sunk to his knees once he was at the bottom of the stairs. Rather than address Dean as he was supposed to, his gaze landed on Castiel. Much to his surprise.

“It is very good to see you again Prince Castiel, the people miss you dearly.”

“I… Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “You said you had an urgent message for the King?”

The messenger got to his feet.“Ah yes, your Majesty I come with grave news. Oceania is at war.”

The Lords in attendance erupted in noise, no doubt gossiping about the sudden revelation. But despite how loud their voices were Castiel didn’t hear them, not really. Oceania was at war? How was that even possible? Who would even declare war on them? They didn’t even have any real enemies, or at least none that Castiel was aware of. This simply wasn’t possible. Oceania didn’t even have an army, not a real one at least, so how were they going to be able to fight a war? How were they even going to have a fighting chance?

“All right my Lords, I think it’s time you leave. Thank you for attending.” Lord Robert said, his scowl making it obvious that they were no longer welcome.

Luckily, they all seemed to heed his words and left the room without any fuss. The messenger still stood there, shifting from one foot to the next.  Now that they were alone, he seemed more eager to speak, to divulge the details.

“King Michael sent me as soon as he could; the situation in Oceania is… Precarious right now. He is preparing as well as he can, but there is only so much he can do.  His forces are innumerably outnumbered.”

“By how much?”  Robert asked.

“It’s been estimated that for every hundred men we have… They have three thousand.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yes…. It’s not looking good.”

“Who are they? And what do they want? “Dean said, cutting into the conversation despite being silent until then.

“I believe your people call them demons. And as for what they want, well they haven’t made any demands or the like. They just seem to want to annihilate us.”

Dean went ghostly pale and his hands gripped the arms of his chair. His jaw clenched tight and Castiel couldn’t help but wince a little in sympathy. “Are you certain it’s them?”

“Absolutely, your Majesty.”

“Fuck!” Dean hissed, and raised his hands as if he were to run his fingers through his hair. But as soon as his knuckles hit the metal of his crown he pulled them back. “All right, thank you for telling me. You must me tired, Bobby take him to one of the guest rooms and have someone look after him. We’ll talk more later.”

And with that, Robert led the messenger away to where he could get some well needed rest.

Castiel thought that Dean would leap out of his seat as soon as he was able, but he didn’t. He just sagged down and his face fell into his hands.  He said nothing, and even when Castiel got out of his seat, he didn’t move. It was as if he didn’t even notice that he was there. Castiel didn’t need to ask him what was the matter; he shared his husbands shock, his horror at this whole situation. But right now there was one question on his lips, one issue that needed to be addressed.

“What will you do?” Castiel asked with a shaking voice.

Dean slowly pulled his hands away from his face. He looked devastated, but there was a hint of resoluteness in his eyes. “It looks like we’re going to war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry. :D


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

The next day, in the late hours of the morning, Dean called the messenger to his study. His sat by his desk, hands clasped together in front of him as he frowned in thought. He had already started to make preparations, had sent out letters to the Lords of his land and was starting to amass his troops, to get them organised and ready.  The preparations alone would take weeks, maybe even months. Not to mention how long it would take to actually get his men to Oceania and to establish camps along the coast wherever they were needed .Castiel found it all rather staggering. He knew very little about warfare, so he was by no means an expert on the topic. But for some reason he had assumed that it would be a fairly simple process, and that Dean’s army would be able to march off to Oceania by the end of the week. How naïve and sheltered was he to think such a thing? His homeland and people, who had not seen war in at least three thousand years, were in terrible danger and the only person who could save them couldn’t act. Or at least not immediately.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Dean told the messenger and gestured to the seat in front of his desk.

Castiel stood by his husband’s side, slightly leaning against the back of his chair so that he could lightly brush his fingers against his shoulder, in a quiet and subtle show of affection and reassurance. Officially, Castiel had no right or reason to attend this private meeting. In the eyes of many, he was simply the King’s consort, his husband. Castiel was no councillor, nor an advisor, so his opinions were practically inconsequential.  And yet, Castiel wanted to be there. He needed to know what was happening back in his homeland; he needed to know the details and he wanted to hear them first hand with his own ears. Luckily, Dean didn’t put much stock in traditions or the opinions of others. If Castiel wanted to attend, then he was welcome to.

“So…” Dean trailed off, as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start. He quickly glanced up at Castiel, who gave him a reassuring nod, before setting his attention back on the messenger. “Castiel told me that your country hasn’t seen war in thousands of years, so why now? What has Michael done to piss the demons off?”

For a moment, the messenger looked aghast. It was very obvious to Castiel that he wasn’t sure what to make of Dean’s frankness, especially concerning King Michael. He recovered soon enough and responded smoothly. “His Majesty is not to blame; I fear there is nothing he could have done to prevent this.”

“Of course he is. Your King is practically a saint isn’t he?” Dean drawled, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Before the messenger could no doubt leap to his King’s defence, Castiel cut into the conversation. “What to do you mean by that?” He asked. “How could he not prevent this?”

“I, as well as many others, believe that this war has been a long time coming, your Highness.”

Castiel shook his head in disbelief. What in the Goddesses name was he about? “But that doesn’t make sense! The demons have never gone this far south before, and why would they even want to declare war on Oceania anyway? They’ve never even met our people!”

Castiel knew that they were war mongering barbarians, that they would rape, pillage and murder their way through whatever settlements they could find. But heading that far south, marching thousands maybe even millions of men like that took a purpose. There had to be a deeper reasoning behind this than simple bloodlust and greed.   For some reason the demons hated Oceania and its people and Castiel was inclined to agree with Dean, that it had somehow had to be Michael’s fault. But what had he done? He hadn’t been on the throne that long, surely even he couldn’t work that fast. Castiel just couldn’t make sense of it all, no matter how hard he tried. A strange, questioning look appeared on the messengers face, as if he didn’t understand what Castiel was talking about. They regarded each other with confusion, and Castiel got the sudden feeling that the messenger knew something that he did not.  Something that was very important.

The messenger was quiet for a long moment and when he was finally done, he looked up to address Dean.  “The demons are an adversary you are familiar with, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are familiar with their leader, Lucifer?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “Never heard of them. Why, what’s so special about ‘em?”

The messenger blinked and surprise washed over his features. “Your Majesty, he is King Michael’s brother. “He explained, as if it were obvious and that Dean was blind for not realising so.

For a long, heavy moment there was silence.

Dean slowly turned in his seat and stared at Castiel his gaze was firm and Castiel knew that he must have had so many questions, so many accusations sitting on the tip of his tongue.  But no matter what Dean thought, it wasn’t like that. Castiel didn’t know! How could he have known? It happened so long ago when Castiel had simply been a little boy, how was he supposed to know that it could have ended up like this?  Pulling in a deep breath, Castiel turned to the messenger. He and Dean needed to have this conversation and they needed to have it alone.

“Would you excuse us?”

The messenger nodded and wisely left the room without delay. As soon as the door closed behind him, Castiel went to speak, to assure Dean that things weren’t as they seemed but he was immediately cut off.

“I thought you and me had this whole honesty thing going on.” Dean said, his words biting. “But apparently the rules don’t apply to you.”

 Castiel had to take a step back when Dean pushed himself up off of his chair; he raised his hands placatingly, so as to calm him. But Dean didn’t seem to notice or care. “I have been honest with you. Completely. I just- how was I supposed to know? I haven’t seen him in years!”

Dean whirled around to face him. “Explain then.”

Taking a deep breath Castiel allowed his hands to fall limp to his sides.  “He is not my full brother, he’s only half. Years before I was born, my Father had an affair. And then one day a woman came to the palace with a baby, she claimed the child was his and he believed her, so he took the child in and raised him in the palace, much to my Mother’s displeasure. Lucifer had always been difficult, stubborn, and for some stupid reason he got it into his head that he should be next in line for the throne. Despite the fact he was second born and illegitimate. Father did love him but… Lucifer kept _pushing_ at it. He forced his hand, made Father choose between the two of them… Lucifer was banished and was never allowed to return, no matter what. After that, Father forbade anyone to even utter his name and he was sort of forgotten. Until now.”

“So let me get this straight” Dean said slowly, trying to get a grasp of the situation. “Lucifer’s trying to take the Kingdom of Oceania because he thinks it’s his birth right and Michael wants to take him out to solidify his position as King.”

“So it would seem.”

“How did Lucifer get control of the demons anyway?” Dean wondered aloud as he dropped back down onto his chair again.

Castiel tilted his head. “What do you mean? I thought you said it wasn’t uncommon for them to change leadership.”

“Well yeah, it’s not. But they’re always singing the same old song. ‘Follow me and we shall take back our homeland! We shall destroy the Winchesters!’ That sort of crap. It makes sense that Lucifer wants to go to Oceania, but how the fuck did he manage to persuade the demons to join him?”

That was a good question, and unfortunately Castiel didn’t know the answer to it. “Lucifer has always been very persuasive.”

“Must run in the family then, considering that I’m actually doing this.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked as he stepped closer, his fingers brushed against the edge of the desk.

“Helping defend Oceania against invading demons is one thing; you know I’m happy to send them fuckers straight to hell.  But helping your brother to keep the throne he stole?  Well that’s something else entirely.”

Castiel tried and failed to keep his expression neutral. “So you don’t want to help anymore?”

Castiel had no love for Michael. But he didn’t want Lucifer to invade Oceania either.  He couldn’t help but think of all the innocent people who would get caught in the fray and how they would suffer if Lucifer gained control of the south. Castiel didn’t want Michael on the throne, in his eyes his brother was a monster, but compared to Lucifer he was the lesser of two evils. A military alliance with Winchester was the only way Oceania could be saved, and Castiel was sure that Michael had already come to that conclusion on his own far before anyone else had.  It made him wonder what else Michael had in store, what other thoughts he had brewing in his mind. But with the way things were right now he was more or less blind, and he hated that.

“Don’t look at me like that Cas. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then?” He asked as he crossed his arms against his chest

“I’m just saying-“Dean puffed out a sigh and pushed his seat away from the desk. He patted his lap and somewhat reluctantly, Castiel made himself comfortable. “I’m not backing out of this treaty, don’t worry. I’ll just need to talk to Michael before I make any more arrangements, all right?”

Leaning back into his touch, Castiel nodded. He trusted Dean, so if he said that he intended to stick to their agreement then he knew that he would. Pleased with Castiel’s nonverbal response, Dean leaned in close and pressed a kiss into the side of his neck. Castiel felt him smile against his skin and despite how grim things seemed at least right now they were both together and safe.

* * *

 

Castiel hated the distance between Winchester and Oceania.

Even with their fastest couriers it still took days for messages to get sent back and forth, and with the threat of a demon invasion looming on the horizon there was simply no time to waste. Despite Dean’s reasonable concerns he stayed true to his word and continued the preparations.  He had received the letters of response from his serving Lords, claiming that they were happy to supply men and supplies to the cause. There were however, a few exceptions, a few Lords who refused to assist with the war efforts. They did not openly rebel against Dean, as it would be suicidal to ,but they simply and rather rudely stated they had no interest in involving themselves and their estates in the foreign affairs. Dean didn’t seem all that worried and instead proceeded to ‘sic Bobby on them’. The next day Dean received several letters stating that they were all too happy to do as their King commanded, much to his amusement.

A camp was set up near the castle, just down the hill and to the left. And it was unlike anything that Castiel had ever seen.

For one it was massive. Tents and marquees stretched on for as far as his eyes could see and packed in between them were hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers. Castiel had never seen so many warriors before, so many men ready and waiting to march into battle. They were every bit as intimidating as they had been when he first seen them in Oceania, and despite Benny’s reassurance of: “if they even look at you funny I’ll beat their asses”, Castiel still couldn’t help but shirk away from them a little.

“It’s strange,” Sam admitted as he walked by Castiel’s side, guiding him through the camp. “Seeing a camp so close to the castle."

“You’ve never seen one before?” Castiel asked, curiously tilting his head.

“Well no, I was still a baby when we were at war with the demons. And besides, me and Dean weren’t living here at the time, we’d been moved to Bobby’s estate where it was safe. By the time we came home all this was gone.” He gestured to the hustle and bustle around them. “But I’ve seen plenty of other camps; they’re usually along the border or near the forts.”

“And what do you think about all of this? Do you think Dean is doing the right thing?” Castiel asked suddenly, without any tact.

It was a question that had been niggling away in his mind and no matter how much he thought about it, he just couldn’t decide. All the waiting only made it worse. One day he would feel certain that they were on the right path, that they doing what was best for the people of Oceania. But the next day he would change his mind and feel awful, he would worry and fret that they were making a mistake and that they were putting all these lives on the nothing. It was so stressful and in moments like this he missed how simple and boring his life used to be.

Sam didn’t seem all that surprised by his question or his delivery. Perhaps he was used to it by now. “Honestly? I don’t know.  I mean we can’t let Lucifer go on a rampage down in the South, but do we really want Michael to stay on the throne, after everything he’s done? But…It’s not like Dean has a choice though with the treaty and all.”

“Do you think…Will we have enough soldiers? The messenger said there were _thousands_ of them.”

Sam shrugged and paused for a moment to allow a carriage carrying a shipment of weapons to pass. “Probably not. They’ve always outnumbered us.”

How could he be so calm about that? So blasé?  Sam was smart, logical, so how could he not be worried about this?  Castiel turned suddenly when he felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Benny and his expression was placating, or at least as much as he could muster.

“Try not to worry so much Cas, we’re demon killing experts, we know what we’re doing.”

Of course they were experts; they had been at war with them for years and they had emerged victorious, but the fact that they still remained to this day was what troubled him the most. These demons were obvious tenacious and with Lucifer as their leader who knew what they could accomplish?

“We should hurry up, you know the King doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Victor said in his usual dry manner.

* * *

 

Pushing the cover out of the way, Castiel stepped inside the tent. It was large, much bigger than the others set up in camp. And as expected it was far more luxurious than the rest as well. A large table was in the centre of the room and around it stood Dean and his advisors. They didn’t even look up when they entered, for they were far too engrossed in their ongoing conversation.

“We will set up three main camps on the frontline, with secondaries nearby for supply replenishment.  With King Michael’s permission, we will also set up along the beach near the palace. Just in case we need to fall back and make a final stand.” Dean explained, pointing accordingly to certain points on the map. “Obviously, this plan isn’t set in stone so if-”

One of the advisors frowned, and as if he knew everything, cut in. “But won’t the King need the beaches for his ships, why would you want to cut off-”

“Why would Michael need his ships? The demons aren’t going to be at sea, you dumbass.” Robert scolded, and glared at the man with a unique sort of distain that only he could accomplish.

“As I was saying,” Dean continued on without delay. “We’ll make changes if and when we need them. We won’t be receiving any assistance from the surrounding Kingdoms, so it’s just going to be the two of us against the massive demon horde, think you guys can handle that?”

The men said their affirmatives and Dean smiled, pleased. “Great so-“Castiel was able to tell the exact moment Dean noticed him. His whole posture changed, he straightened up a little and the corners of his lips ticked up into an automatic smile. “I think we’re about done here. I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

The advisors filed out of the tent and politely dipped their heads when they passed Castiel and Sam. Soon enough it was just the three of them in the tent. And Dean looked much happier for it.

“You wanted to see us?” Sam asked, clearly curious as to why they had been summoned.

“I did? I mean yeah, I did.” Dean cleared his throat. “After many hours of consideration,” He said, as he walked along with an exaggerated air of pretentiousness. “I’ve decided to make you my Regent.”

“You what? You can’t be serious!”

Dean came to a stop. “I am, one hundred percent. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, how about because Bobby is the obvious choice here? Not me.”

“Bobby’s coming with me, and it’s not like I can trust anyone else. Don’t worry Sammy, you’ll be fine.”

“And what about Cas, what’s he going to do?” Sam turned to look at him sharply.

“I was thinking he could be your second in command. Or maybe-”

“What?”  Castiel cut in, absolutely appalled. “I thought I was-”

“No no no no. You are _not_ coming with me.”

“But why?! It’s my homeland, you cannot do this!”

“Uh, I think you’ll find that I can. I’m King, remember?”

That shut Castiel up.  Stubbornly, he folded his arms across his chest and sent Dean the most potent glower he could muster. He was furious! How dare Dean do this to him! Perhaps if he had some warning or if they had discussed this prior, but Dean had done no such thing. Dean had such nerve! What, did he really think that Castiel would roll over and be the doting and obedient husband? Did he really think that Castiel would be happy to be left behind? If he did then Dean didn’t know him at all. And that thought hurt almost as much as this did.

Dean sighed and rubbed forehead.  “Sam, I’ll talk to you later.”

Castiel heard the faint rustle of the tent door open and close behind him, but he didn’t bother to turn and watch him go. He was too busy staring at the floor.

“May I go as well?” Castiel asked, his voice was quiet and stiff.

“Look Cas,” Dean stepped close and Castiel immediately realised what he was about to do.

“Don’t touch me!” He hissed, swatting his hand away.

Dean held his hands up in surrender. He wasn’t looking for a fight. “I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t. “He scoffed, not believing a word out of his mouth.

“Have you ever been at war? On a battlefield?” Dean asked, suddenly turning the argument in a new direction.

 “You know I haven’t!”

“Then you don’t know what it’s like Cas. You’d just get in the way!”

“Oh so it’s my fault then? I’m just burden to you?”

“Ugh!” Dean threw his hands up into the air.  “I didn’t say that!”

“What then!?” Castiel yelled back at him, indifferent of the ruckus they were making. “What are you trying to say?!”

“I just want you to be safe Cas! I want you here where I know you’ll be safe, because I love you all right? And the thought of you being anywhere near those demons… It makes me feel sick!”

Castiel stared at Dean’s sudden outburst. It was loud, honest and open and Castiel was speechless. He didn’t know what to think, he was so conflicted. He was still angry, of course he was. But hearing those words and knowing that Dean said them in the heat of the moment, probably without even realising it. Well, if Castiel had been in a better mood he would have been thrilled. But now, he couldn’t even think on it. There was no space for him to, and the lengthening tension between them demanded that someone should say something to shatter the silence. Dean’s eyes were wide, almost panicked.  What he had just said dawned on him and it was clear that he didn’t know what to do.  Whether he should hurry to take those words back, or just accept that damage as it was.

“I love you too.” Castiel told him, because he really did. “But I really _hate_ you right now.”

The relief was clear on Dean’s face. “I know, I’m sorry. But you can’t come.”

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but then he thought against it. Dean wasn’t going to budge and Castiel was never going to be happy about being left behind. That was just how it worked and butting heads over and over again wasn’t going to do any good. If anything they were just going to end up hurting each other’s feelings even more.

“Can I go now?” Castiel asked, praying that Dean would say yes.

 “Yeah…Sure.  But I’ll see you later, right?”

Castiel wasn’t sure whether he would even want to see him later, so rather than making an empty promise he merely shrugged before he left Dean to his own devices.

* * *

 

Dean soon had to leave for Oceania and Castiel hated it.

 He hated that he was going to be left behind, that he would lie awake at night and worry about him. He was well aware that Dean was a skilled warrior, one of the best fighters in the entire continent, but his skill in battle didn’t make him immortal. He was still every bit as vulnerable as any other solider on the battlefield, and like them he could die at any moment. The thought of Dean dying was a disgusting, ugly thing.  Castiel loathed the thought completely with his entire being.  And yet, it could be something he would have to face which meant he would have to prepare himself for the possibility. How on earth was he to do such a thing though? How was he supposed to brace himself for such a loss? How could he stand the death of the man he loved? He hadn’t worried about it so much before, when he thought that he was going to Oceania as well. But now that he knew Dean was going to leave in a few days’ time without him, it was all he could think about. Dean did his best to reassure him, and in a way it helped. It was difficult to be unhappy whenever he was around, but unfortunately Dean was always so busy with the final preparations.  He simply didn’t have the time to keep Castiel company, which meant that those nasty thoughts he had were often allowed free rein to bounce about in his mind.

There was one thing though, one other thing he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Castiel lifted up his feet and rested them on the lip of the bathtub. The warm, bubbly water sloshed about, and he sighed in content. The more he thought about it, the more appealing it became.  At this point he was having a hard time believing that he used to be so hesitant about it, that the idea had seemed unpleasant and unappealing to him. Things had obviously changed, he had changed, and Castiel idly wondered if it was for the better.  He felt as though it was, that he had become more… Open perhaps?  He drummed his fingers against his thigh and frowned in thought, he wasn’t sure why he was thinking about this so much. It was supposed to be simple easy, people did-

“You doin’ okay in there?” Benny suddenly asked from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine.”

“All right, just checking.”

Grabbing the sponge that was floating about in the tub, Castiel began to scrub himself clean. It was final then, he had decided. This was what he wanted and he wouldn’t let anything dissuade him.

* * *

 

A little while later, when Castiel was nearly done in the bath, he heard a familiar voice in the hallway.

“Evenin’ fellas.”

“You can’t go in, he’s in the bath.” Victor told him sternly, and likely stopped Dean from opening the door.

“Ah, you know how long he’s going to be?”

“No, but he’s been in there a while. He’ll end up like a prune if he’s not careful.” Benny said.

Castiel stared at the door. “You know I can hear you.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Benny responded, and Castiel was sure that he was grinning.

“Do you want me to give you some more time? I can come back later.” Dean offered, as always he was the perfect gentleman. Or at least he was trying to be, which was just as good in Castiel’s opinion.

Castiel hesitated to respond.  He bit down on his lip and shifted in the water so that he could sit up. What was taking him so long? He knew what he wanted and yet why was he feeling so… Nervous all of a sudden? Steeling himself, Castiel cleared his throat and responded before anyone could worry about his lack of response.

Give me a moment. “He said and then carefully got out of the bath.

Little beads of water slid down his skin and dripped onto the sheet that had been laid out on the floor. Castiel grabbed the towel that was on the bench and quickly patted himself dry. He then threw it to the side, oblivious as to where it landed. There, he was about ready.  He wrung his hands together; pulled the calmest and most serious expression he could muster and then turned to face the door.

“All right, you can come in.”

The door opened up and Castiel knew the exact moment that Dean noticed his state of undress.  If Castiel hadn’t been so serious about this he would have laughed at how comical Dean looked, standing there white as a sheet and with eyes that were as wide as saucers.  His face suddenly flushed red, all the way to the tips of his ears, and Dean kicked the door closed behind him as he averted his gaze to the other side of the room. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. He stood there gaping for a moment, before he managed to muster some decorum. Though honestly, it wasn’t much.

“You’re naked!”

“Yes.”

That didn’t do anything to quell Dean’s confusion. If anything it seemed to make it worse.  

Seeing as Dean didn’t have the nerve, or was being too polite to look him head on, he kept side eying him. Sneaking quick glances when he could, when he thought Castiel wouldn’t notice. But he did, and he found it all rather thrilling to know that despite Dean’s misconstrued sense of chivalry, he simply couldn’t stop himself from looking. That was exactly the sort of response Castiel was hoping for.

“Okay, so….Can I ask why?”

“Because I want to have sex with you.” Castiel admitted, his voice a low, seductive murmur.  He slowly, almost predatory, approached Dean and looked up at him with narrowed, lust blown eyes. His attention was solely on Dean. In this moment nothing else mattered, not the guards outside and certainly not the impending war with the demons. In Castiel’s mind it was just the two of them, and he was growing tired of waiting. “Right now.” He said and reached Dean, wanting to pull off his clothes.

Dean tilted back on his heels; as if he wanted escape his touch. And yet his hands settled on Castiel’s hips and held him close. Talk about mixed signals. “Wait a second.” He sputtered. “I need a moment to catch up.”

Castiel sighed but did as he was told. He was many things, but he wasn’t pushy.

“I thought you were angry at me.”

“I was, but I’m not anymore.”

“Okay.” Dean seemed to accept that easily enough.  “This isn’t some sort of scheme is it?”

It had occurred to Castiel that there might be a way he could _persuade_ his husband to see things from his perspective, but he had never taken that idea seriously. Not only would it be pretty manipulative, but he didn’t think it would work either. Dean wasn’t just a pretty face, he wouldn’t fall for such a trick and the fact that he was suspicious right now proved that.

“It’s not.” Castiel promised.

“Well okay then.” Dean said with a smirk.

And then he kissed him hard and passionately. Dean’s hands were grabby, insistent, and Castiel couldn’t help but be swallowed up in how eager he was. With how careful he had been before, Castiel had assumed that he would be soft and gentle, that he would touch him as if he were a fragile thing, something that was delicate and precious. But no, Dean was all fire and vigour. One of his hands slid down and firmly gripped the soft flesh of his ass. The movement was practiced, easy, and if Castiel had more of a mind he would have wondered how he had gotten so _good_ at this. But he didn’t, he couldn’t as he was far too focused on what Dean was doing with those lips of his. Castiel was familiar with his lips; he knew how pliant and supple they were. But the soft, chaste kisses they shared before were nothing like this. They were so fervent and heavy, and all Castiel could do was to try and keep up. To try and do his part and kiss him back with everything he had.

Just when Castiel had been about to reluctantly pull away to get some air, Dean pulled back and redirected his attention towards the expanse of skin that was Castiel’s neck. An airy sigh passed from Castiel’s lips and he moved his hands so that he was no longer gripping onto his forearms, but instead hooked them around Dean’s neck. He had to keep him close, to make sure he was doing _that_ with his mouth.

“Cas…” Dean breathed against his skin, and Castiel felt the word more than he heard it.

“Yes?” He tilted his head more to the side, so that Dean could have more room to work if he needed it.

But that didn’t seem to the case, as much to Castiel’s disappointment Dean pulled back a moment later. Or at least it seemed to be a moment later as it was frustratingly difficult to tell whether just one minute had passed or ten.

Dean didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just smirked and eyed up the bed.  As soon as Castiel understood, he nodded eagerly and hurried his way across the room. Perhaps he should have been more dignified, this was hardly befitting for Prince, especially one who was married to a King. But to hell with dignity! This was what he needed, he could feel it low in his stomach, stirring and heating up. It was unlike anything he had experienced and he knew that he wanted more, that he needed it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Castiel made himself comfortable. His cock was hardening between his legs and as he watched his lover shuck off his jacket; he couldn’t help but stroke himself a little. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he had done this, he knew what he liked and he enjoyed how it felt. Though he imagined that Dean would be able to pleasure him a whole lot better than he could himself.

“Enjoying the show?” Dean teased, as he unclipped his trousers and pushed them down off of his hips.

“You know I am.”

And Castiel was. He was eagerly taking in the view, taking in every inch of skin as it was revealed to him slowly but surely. Dropping his undershorts to the floor, Dean stood there for a moment in all of his naked glory and Castiel couldn’t help but stare. They were on equal footing now, and Dean was obviously giving Castiel the opportunity to have a good look. And what a sight he was. He was so firm! His thighs were so thick and strong. He definitely had the body of a battle hardened warrior. Castiel’s gaze slipped lower, and by the Goddess he didn’t think he would be so… Well endowed.

Castiel shuffled back onto the bed, and pulled the pillow down so he could rest his head on it. Rather than join him on the bed, Dean had other plans and went to the bedside table. He rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a small vial of see through liquid.

“That’s a little presumptuous of you isn’t it? Keeping that in the bedside table.” Castiel teased as he sprawled himself out onto the bed taking up as much room as he could and giving Dean a good view of his body in the process.

“Yeah, well I like to be prepared.” Dean sat down on the bed beside him, and began to lightly stroke the inside of Castiel’s thigh. “You sure about this?”

Castiel pushed himself up into a sitting position and cupped Dean’s cheek. “I’m sure. This is what I want.”

Dean smiled and turned his face into his palm and gave it a kiss. Grabbing the other pillow, he motioned for Castiel to lift his hips up off of the bed so that he could slip the pillow beneath him and then he got comfortable in the space between his legs. Bowing down, he pressed a kiss to his stomach and trailed lower and lower. Castiel moaned softly and his fingers dug into the quilt in anticipation. He had done this all before on his wedding night, so he was prepared for the sting of the intrusion, and the slick, wet feeling that followed. But when Dean did it, when he pushed his finger inside of him carefully and slowly, it felt different. Perhaps it was because someone else was doing it for him, or that Dean simply had more experience, but this was more pleasant. And Castiel found himself moaning slightly when Dean curled his finger so.

“You like that huh?” Dean asked, grinning and confident.

And Castiel did.  That much was obvious. One by one, Dean pushed another finger inside of him. Though only when he deemed Castiel loose enough to do so. There was no rush or need to hurry, Dean took his time. He lingered and took extra care to ensure Castiel’s comfort and pleasure. And only when he could comfortably fit three of his thick fingers, did he pull them out. Castiel whined impatiently at the feeling. He felt so empty now, he needed that warmth inside of him, he needed the friction and without it he felt uneasy, almost uncomfortable.

“Please….” Castiel moaned, unable to stop himself.  “Dean please.”

Pouring the remainder of lubricant out onto his palm, Dean stroked his hardened cock and got it nice and slick. He had been very meticulous in his preparation, and whilst his care was greatly appreciated, Castiel just wanted him to hurry the fuck up. Dean was having none of that though, he took his time as he got into position between Castiel’s legs and offered him that shit eating grin of his.

“Hold your horses Cas, this isn’t a race. Just relax and take it easy.”

How could he be so calm, so in control? Castiel simply couldn’t understand it. Dean made it seem so easy, and other than his obvious and quite large erection he didn’t seem at all affected by any of this. Castiel threw his head back onto the bed and groaned just as he felt something warm and wide press up against his rim. He shuddered at the feeling and forcibly made himself relax, and allowed his muscles to loosen up and unwind.

“There we go,” Dean groaned; his voice hitched a little as he pushed in inch by inch. “That’s it. You’re doing so good Cas. So good.”

Castiel could do little but nod. It didn’t hurt per se, but it ached, deeply.                This part felt the same as before and he imagined that his response was rather similar as well. He was quiet for the most part, but only when Dean bottomed out did Castiel let out a long, breathy moan. Rather than getting right to it, like Castiel assumed he would, Dean stayed still. He did his best to give Castiel a moment to adjust, to get comfortable and familiar with the feeling. And that helped, it really did. The discomfort faded and was replaced with a feeling he wasn’t quite familiar with. Last time hadn’t been bad, it wasn’t exactly pleasant but there had been wisps, traces of something better. Like a good feeling that was just out of his reach. But now, now that he actually wanted this, that he was ready for it, he knew it would be different. That it would feel _good_.

“Is this all right?” Dean asked as he stroked the insides of his thighs, probably in an attempt to soothe him.

“Yes,” Castiel assured. “It feels… Full, but nice.””

The corners of Dean’s lips quirked up. “That’s what I like to hear. Mind if I get comfortable?”

That was a simple enough request and the position Dean was perched in didn’t exactly look comfortable, so Castiel nodded.  Slowly and mindfully, Dean laid himself down atop of him, though he as extra careful to distribute his weight so that Castiel wasn’t crushed beneath him. The ease of his movements really suggested that he had done this before, many a time, further adding credence to Castiel’s suspicion. Even if he had, it didn’t matter to him. The past was in the past and there was no point in getting jealous over past flames. Castiel was living for the moment, and right now he could only think about one thing.

Lifting his hands off the bed, Castiel moved them to rest on Dean’s back. There was no real reason for doing so, other than the fact that he just wanted to touch him. More than he already was. “Come on.” Castiel sighed, as Dean pressed adoring kisses to whatever part of him he could reach. Be it his chest, neck and even the occasional kiss to his lips. He appreciated the attention, he loved it, but Dean was holding out on him and he was getting impatient again. “Dean please, just move.”

Castiel thought he heard Dean mutter something like “so impatient “against his neck, but that line of thought suddenly veered away when he pulled his hips back a little, only to dig them forward a second later. Castiel gasped at the feeling. At the sudden flair of heat and the tingling warmth that followed. It was wonderful, better than he could have ever anticipated and he just wanted Dean to do that again and again and again. Dean withdrew, a little further this time, and pushed back in. He fell into a natural, easy pace that had him grunting softly with each movement of his hips. His thrusts were slow and calculated, Dean knew exactly what he was doing, he knew how to find Castiel’s sweet spot and he could easily nudge into it over and over.

Hooking his legs up around Dean’s hips, Castiel dug his heels into Dean’s ass cheeks.  He needed to hold him close, to make sure he kept doing _that_. But he needed him to go faster and harder too. His movements were too languid, Castiel could take it, he was certain of that. This wasn’t enough and no matter how good it felt now he knew it could only get better. Castiel didn’t even need to ask, Dean’s pace increased and rather than rolling his hips smoothly into him like he was before, his thrusts were sharper, firmer.  He was letting go, giving Castiel what he needed. Fanning the flames of the heat inside of him, and all Castiel could do was moan loudly and unabashed as he held onto him dearly.

“Oh yes…Oh yes.” He murmured, between his lewd sounding moans. “Oh Goddess yes…”

He could tell that Dean was getting closer too, that he was losing his control and poise. His thrusts became jagged and his panted breaths were hot against Castiel’s sweat sheened skin. The slap of skin on skin was loud, audible, but it was simply a background noise, as was the creaking of the bed. Castiel couldn’t help but focus on how perfectly they blended and slotted together. And how wondrous it felt when Dean pushed in right there like that, just there-

Something warm and wet splashed up against Castiel’s stomach. It came all of sudden and out of the blue.  The pleasure, _that feeling_ , that had been building steadily, notch by notch, was suddenly fierce and blinding.  With one firmly placed thrust right against his prostate Dean had been able to tear it all down. And Castiel couldn’t help but cry out, loud and blissfully like he had no shame.  Dean continued to fuck him through it, jabbing his hot bundle of nerves over and over again. It was hot, so hot and _right_ and Castiel couldn’t help but dig his nails into Dean’s back, as if he needed something to hold onto. Some sort of tether that would stop himself being washed away.

 “Oh Goddess yes! Dean Dean Dean.” He moaned, as if it were a mantra, some sort of prayer that had to be said.  

A few sharp and deep thrusts later Dean tensed and seized up atop of him. “Ah shit! Fuck! Yes, yes yes!” He cried out, along with a long stream of deep, throaty groans.

Castiel felt Dean spill deep inside him. The familiarly of it threw him of course for a moment and with it, he felt the tingling pleasure fade when Dean’s jerky, automatic thrusts puttered to a stop. Dean sagged down on top of him, spent and out heavily out breath.

“Fucking hell.” He sighed and pushed himself up a little when he was able.  He looked down at Castiel and his face was flushed red, his eyes were wide and his pupils diluted. “Ah shit it’s been too long…”

Castiel dropped his arms and legs to the bed and let out a very tired sigh. It was strange to feel so alive in one moment and so done in the next. But that was the way of things he supposed. Not that he was complaining, Castiel was on top of the world and he had nothing at all to complain about.

“So how was that?” Dean asked expectantly, though there was this tint of worry in his eyes.

“It was… Wonderful. A little messy,” Castiel looked down at himself. “But still wonderful.”

Dean grinned smugly and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Good. Cause that was awesome for me, just in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Castiel had meant to laugh, but instead a yawn came out.

“All right, I think I can take a hint. Let’s get cleaned up and then we can hit the hay? How does that sound to you?”

Castiel smiled tenderly, it was smile for Dean’s eyes only.  “Just perfect.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found out that writing smut is hard and I am not very good at it. :/  
> This chapter seriously got out of hand though and turned out to be much longer than I had anticipated, see it as a 'sorry for the lack of updates' gift!


	20. Chapter 20

Castiel let out a long and shaky breath as he felt the fading tremors of pleasure rush through his body.  He was still sitting on Dean’s lap and still had his cock inside of him, but he didn’t want to move and more importantly he didn’t want this moment to end. It was true that his thighs ached and that he wanted to do nothing more than clean up ,lay down and go to sleep, but he knew that the sooner they went to bed, the sooner tomorrow would come.

By the Goddess Castiel was dreading it. Dean and his army were going to leave for Oceania in the morning, they were going to war with the demons and Castiel was going to be left behind. He knew that he should have faith in Dean and his judgement, but how else was he supposed to feel? This was going to be their last night together for a long time, so yes he was upset about it. He resented the fact that he would have to sleep alone, when they had only just started being intimate like this a few days earlier. The only saving grace was that they had made every effort to make use of what little time they had together. They ended up having a lot of sex, be it in Dean’s tent, in the bath and even in the library once, much to Sam’s disgust. Despite how much time they had spent together, it wasn’t enough for Castiel and he knew it would never be.  That was just how things worked.

“You doing okay there?” Dean asked from beneath him. Just like Castiel his voice was raspy, as he too was catching his breath and recovering from quite an intense orgasm.

“Yes.” Castiel replied, though Dean didn’t look at all convinced.

“Getting uncomfortable?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just… Not looking forward to tomorrow.”

Taking his hand off of Castiel’s hip, Dean brushed away the hair that was stuck to his forehead. “Me too.” He said and sighed wistfully. “But you know that as soon as this is over we’ll see each other again. And nothing, not even your asshole of a brother, could keep me away from you.”

The idea of Michael physically trying to restrain Dean was enough to put a smile on Castiel’s face.  “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am right. Just think about what it’ll be like when it’s all over.  No more demons. And your brother won’t have a reason to keep yanking on my chain. It’ll just be the two of us, oh and Sam.”

“That does sound nice.” Castiel admitted.

“Hell yeah it does. And think of all the sex we’re gunna have!” Dean grinned, wide and unabashed.

He tutted and rolled his eyes. How typical of him, not that Castiel really minded.  At first he had found his brashness a little repulsive, but now he thought that it was rather charming. Not that he was going to let Dean in on that little secret.

Castiel’s deadpan reaction didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest though; it just made him grin even more. If that were possible.  His expression soon levelled out and the glint of humour left his eyes. “Seriously though, I’m gunna miss you. So make sure you write to me, okay?”

“Of course, only if you do as well.”

“For you? I’d do anything.” He assured and leaned forward to press a soft and lingering kiss to Castiel’s lips.

* * *

 

So this was it then.

Castiel stood at the stop of the stairs in the courtyard, with Sam by his side, as they watched Dean fiddle with Impala’s saddle straps. Several servants had offered to do it for him, but for obvious reasons he had declined. Even after becoming King, Dean was still just as hands on and down to earth as he had been before. He didn’t let power get to his head, he was still Dean, and Castiel loved him exactly the way he was. Still, this was a part of Dean he had never seen before, the part of him that was ready and willing to go to war. Castiel was well aware that he had defended Winchester’s borders on serval occasions from the invading demons, but border skirmishes were a completely different thing to all-out war.  He was sure that Dean was well aware of that, that he wasn’t marching into this blindly, but even so Castiel worried for him. At this point it felt natural to do so, which was a little strange considering that at one point he hadn’t been all that fond of him. He had never hated him, not truly, but at the beginning all those months ago he had been apathetic at worst and tolerant at best. And now here he was, worrying for the man he loved, who also happened to be a King and commander of a massive army. Oh how things had changed.

“Looks like she’s about done.” Dean announced and gave his horse a pat on the neck. He turned to Castiel and Sam and jogged up the steps two at a time. “How you two holding up?”

Sam snorted. “You make it sound like you think we’re gunna cry.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you started with the water works, you’ve always been a cry baby.”

“Shut up.” He grumbled. “You’ll be careful though won’t you? Come back in one piece?”

“I’ll do my best. “ He winked. “And you keep an eye on things, cause if I come back and the Kingdoms a mess I’m gunna blame you.”

“How would I even- you know what? Never mind.” Sam shook his head as if he were far too old for this, which Castiel found pretty amusing as he was the youngest out of all three of them.

Dean gave his brother’s shoulder a slap and then turned his attention to Castiel. His expression shifted into something softer and loving, the sort that Dean usually refrained from showing when they were out in public. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the onlookers and he certainly didn’t care that he was keeping his men waiting. He just looked at Castiel like he loved him, like he was taking in every detail and storing them to memory whilst he could.

“Remember to write to me and don’t just sit around being miserable, do stuff, have fun.”

“I’ll try.” He promised.

Dean leaned in to steal a quick kiss. Well, Castiel assumed it was supposed to be a quick one, but that just wouldn’t do his in his eyes, so he suddenly latched onto Dean’s shoulders and kept him there as he deepened the kiss and flicked his tongue along his bottom lip. He was well aware that this wasn’t exactly appropriate, because Inlanders were such prudes, but he wasn’t going to allow their last kiss to be chaste and short lived. It needed to be memorable and when Dean pulled away looking rather dishevelled he knew that neither of them would forget it any time soon.

Dean cleared his throat. “Right… So um… Yeah. Look after yourself Cas.” And with that he ducked his head down in a quick bow, before heading down the steps and climbing up onto his steed.

He steered Impala around and nudged her into a trot so that he could catch up with his men waiting outside the castle walls. The Kings guard followed suit and followed their King until they were all out of sight. Castiel and Sam lingered for a moment. It felt almost surreal, Dean was gone. And Castiel wouldn’t see him until the war was over and the demons were defeated.  As to how long that would take, well no one really knew. They would all have to wait and see.

“So,” Sam began after a while of silence. “What should we do first? Ban pies?”

* * *

 

Castiel received his first letter from Dean a week later.  It was small, crumpled, and there were several dollops of smudged ink on the page. Castiel couldn’t help but smile as he traced the wrinkles and creases with his finger tip. He could imagine Dean sitting there with a piece of paper laid out on his lap and cursing in annoyance when he had trouble writing clearly. Seeing as they were going to war, they hadn’t packed many of the luxuries that Dean was used to. And Dean had made it a point to complain about it in his letter, amongst other things.

The letter went as follows:

_Cas_

_How’s everything on your end? We’ve been on the road for days now and I’m missing the castle all ready. I miss sleeping in our comfy ass bed with you right beside me hogging all the blankets. And I don’t care what you say, you snore. Not all the time, but sometimes. Now that I’m thinking about it, I miss eating food that isn’t slop or rations. Hell, I even miss my desk. We’ll have to borrow one from Michael or something when we get there, cause I not going to keep sending you letters that look like they’ve been written by a toddler or something._

_Other than that, things are going well. We’re making good progress and we should get there within four and a half weeks, maybe even just four if we’re lucky. Other than that I don’t have much to say, you know what being on the road is like, but I thought I’d send you a letter anyway, cause I gave you my word. And you know I’d never let you down._

_I dunno about you, but I miss you so much already. I’d gotten used to having you around and now that you’re not I feel a little… I dunno lonely? Ah shit, I swore I wouldn’t get all sappy. Look at what you’ve done to me, I don’t mind it too much though because it’s worth it. You’re worth it._

_Forever yours, Dean._

Forever his. Dean could have signed off the letter in a number of different ways.  He could have kept it simple and just finished off with the tried and tested ‘from’.  Or he could have gone down the more formal route and signed off with yours sincerely. But no, he had gone with forever yours. And the significance of that choice was not lost on Castiel. Just looking at those two words brought a smile to Castiel’s face and he couldn’t help but read them over and over again.  Dean was forever his. That sounded right to him. He knew that they had technically “belonged” to each other since the wedding, but this was different.  This was their choice; they had changed their marriage into something that belonged to them, something that they could both enjoy. Just as Dean said they would.  Looking back at things now, Castiel could barely believe how it had changed. It had taken a lot of time, several months to be precise, but slowly they grew closer and closer, and the lines of simple friendship blurred into something else entirely. He recalled how tentative their relationship had been, how unsure he used to be and how unendingly patient Dean had been with him in return.  Castiel was absolutely certain that if he had married anyone other than Dean he wouldn’t have found himself in such a situation. He wouldn’t have become close friends with them, he wouldn’t have been able to depend on them when he was at his lowest and he certainly wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Dean was one of a kind and he thanked the Goddess daily for blessing him with such a wonderful and caring lover.

Picking up his quill and dipping it into the ink, Castiel grabbed a clean sheet of paper and began to write a letter of response.  He didn’t have much to say, or any real news to tell Dean but he knew how he was going to sign off the letter: forever yours, Castiel.

* * *

 

“And may I ask why you decided to remain in Winchester? I thought that surely you would want to assist with the war efforts, your homeland is at stake after all.”  The lady asked, no doubt trying to initiate some sort of conversation between the two of them. “Of course I am glad that you-“

 Castiel yawned loudly, cutting her off midsentence.

He knew that he was being awfully rude, but he couldn’t help it. Not only was he feeling exceptionally tired that night, but he was bored out of his mind as well. The noble woman in question (Castiel couldn’t remember her name) had been standing in front of his throne for about half an hour now, talking about all sorts of menial subjects that Castiel couldn’t care less about. Still, Castiel knew that he shouldn’t complain too much, after all she was being civil enough. But other than the fact that her conversation skills were boring Castiel to tears, she was also acting a little too familiar for his tastes.  Ever since Dean and his men had left to go to war, nights like this at court were a common occurrence. Dean had taken all, if not most of the important nobles in the Kingdom with him to battle the demons.  And so those who remained were either too old, unable to fight or were simply not important enough to contribute to the war efforts.  Castiel assumed that this woman was the latter.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel apologised, more out of habit that anything. “What were you saying?”

“I was just wondering... If you could have a word with the King on my behalf. My estate is in a terrible state of repair and-”

Ah. Why was Castiel not surprised? This wasn’t the first time this had happened and he was sure that it wouldn’t be the last. Several minor nobles had gone through this whole routine with him long before this lady had come along this evening. They would approach him , try to establish some sort of friendship or rapport between them, before making some sort of request that he could pass on to the King.  Castiel couldn’t understand why they just didn’t ask Dean themselves? Were they too lazy? Or did they simply think that Dean would react more favourably if it came from his husband? Either way Castiel didn’t care.  He wasn’t there to deal with their shit.

“I’m going to have to stop you there, my Lady. Frankly, I don’t care about the state of your home. Because surely if it was as bad as you claim you would have sold your jewellery, your clothes to get it fixed.” He jabbed a finger at her, pointing out her solid gold necklace and fine silk gown. “But no, instead you come to me and complain about it in the hopes that I could persuade my husband, who is at **_war_** I might add, that fixing up your home is more important than a thousand of other things that are on his agenda. Who do you take me for? An idiot?” Castiel scoffed and straightened up in his seat. “Just get out of my sight.”

The noblewoman opened her mouth as if she wanted to protest, but the sharp looks that Benny and Victor were sending her way were more enough to persuade her to do as she was told. She scampered away and as soon as she was out of sight Castiel got up out of his chair. He was done for this evening; now he just wanted to go to bed. And where the hell was Sam? The last time he saw him he was with Jessica, which wasn’t at all surprising as they were more or less joined at the hip these days. But they had been gone for quite a while, doing whatever they did when they were together.  Castiel, unlike Dean, wasn’t one to pry so he didn’t question whether they were just friends or something more than that. As long as they were happy then so was Castiel.

“I’m going to bed.” Castiel told his guards and made his way down the few steps.

He was half way across the room when someone stepped out in front of him. He had never spoken to this man before, but he was well aware of who he was.  Dean had pointed him out and had warned him that he was dangerous, and that he should stay away from him. And yet Alistair had stopped him in his path and obviously wanted to speak with him.

“May I have a word with you, your Highness?” He asked.

“I…. Yes. But make it quick if you can, I was about to retire for the night.”

Alistair smiled, or at least it was supposed to be a smile. It was an ugly twisted thing that seemed unnatural, forced. Behind Castiel, Benny and Victor adjusted their stance and rested their hands on the hilts of their swords.

“I just think that it’s a little strange that you’ve been here for so long and we’ve never talked. Not even once.  I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“I have no reason to avoid you.” Castiel assured him carefully, as if he were treading on thin ice or approaching a dangerous beast. “Unless you are looking to provide me with one.”

“Heh. No your Highness, I would never do such a thing.” He turned for a moment and watched the noblewoman who was lingering at the edge of the room, talking to the few other Lords and Ladies who remained. “The court’s not what is used to be I’m afraid. Those who are left are bottom feeders, squabbling over what little power remains. It’s all rather amusing don’t you think?”

“And what of you? Are you a bottom feeder as well?”

Alistair laughed, and it took a great deal of effort for Castiel not to cringe at the sound.  “Not quite.”

“Then why are you here?” Castiel didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation.

“I assure you, I have done my part in assisting with the war efforts. It was at the Kings request that I remain here, along with a few of my close friends.” He directed Castiel’s attention to the back of the room, where Castiel noticed Gordon, and several other men that he didn’t recognise, all huddled together in conversation. “I have a feeling the King doesn’t like me very much. Can’t imagine why.”

“Me neither.” Castiel said dryly.

 “Well, I shan’t keep you any longer. It was a pleasure talking to you, your Highness. Have sweet dreams.”

With that, Alistair stepped out of his path and Castiel was free to go. As he walked out of the room, Castiel heard Benny spit “what a creep” from behind him.

* * *

 

A week later, Castiel received a letter informing him that Dean and his army had arrived safe and well in Oceania.

Just as Dean had predicted, it had taken four and a half weeks to get there.  And that was even with the few delays they encountered when they were out on the road. On several occasions, small groups of demons, scouts most likely, had attempted to ambush the army as they approached Oceania’s borders. Fortunately, they were no match for Dean’s skilled and well-armed soldiers. The demons were cut down with ease and the army continued on its merry way. Or at least that was what Dean claimed in his letter. Castiel didn’t think that he would outright lie to him, but he knew what Dean was like. He had a way of tweaking the truth a little, downplaying things so that Castiel and Sam wouldn’t worry so much. It was a sweet sentiment, but when Dean was so far away, on the other side of the world preparing for war, that wasn’t what they wanted. They needed the truth from him, no matter how troubling it might be.

 “You shouldn’t worry so much.” Missouri scolded Castiel as he sat in the library, staring blankly down at the pages of an open book. “You’re making yourself sick.”

“I’m not worried, or sick.” Castiel replied adamantly. “I’m just thinking.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Hmm, about?”

“The war. Dean. The demons.”  

“And what do you hope to accomplish sitting around thinking about all of that?”

 “I don’t know. Why are you asking so many questions? Don’t you have work to do?” Castiel snapped, annoyance seething through his words.

Missouri went quiet. “I’ll leave you to your thinking then, your Highness.” She said her voice flat and monotone.

 “No, please wait!” Castiel stumbled out of his seat. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry.”

But there was no stopping her. Missouri reached for the door and yanked it open. “Once I have finished my work, I’ll bring you some tea.”

 She stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind her, leaving Castiel standing there, his hand still outstretched.  After a moment his arm fell limply to his side and he exhaled slowly. That was… Why had he said that? What had possessed him to be so rude? It was true that she was being a little too pushy for his liking, but that was what she was like. He was used to it by now and he had no reason to lash out like that.  With a sigh, Castiel slumped back down into his seat and his head fell into his hands.  Perhaps she was right, perhaps he was thinking about all of this too much. How was staring at yellow paged books going to help? It wasn’t, it was just making him miserable and crabby. And he had to put an end to this.

* * *

 

Castiel hadn’t seen it rain this much in months. It was hammering it down, a sudden and torrential downpour that shrouded the castle gardens in grey and soaked Castiel to the bone. He knew that he should have stayed inside where it was warm and dry, but there was an itch beneath his skin, a sense of uneasiness that he just couldn’t shake. Staying cooped up inside wasn’t helping, and if anything it just made him feel worse. Castiel had no trouble sleeping at night, and yet his fatigue increased with every passing day. To make matters even worse, his temperament had also soured and he was no longer the calm and collected Castiel that he used to be. He was prone to sudden outbursts of anger and it didn’t seem matter who he took it out on. Everyone was fair game, be it Sam, Jessica or the countless servants and maids who simply just trying to go about their work.

Because of that, Castiel noticed that people tended to give him a wide berth now, and even Benny and Victor gave him more space than usual. They still followed him around like his shadow, but it was clear they weren’t going to voluntarily subject themselves to a rant. Or even worse, when Castiel started to cry for no reason.  It was awkward and both Benny and Victor were at loss about what to do. This wasn’t what they signed up for, they were warriors, not babysitters and Castiel often found himself wondering if they regretted accepting this assignment. This of course made him cry even more, because he felt so damn guilty about it and his lack of self-control.

What was wrong with him? Even in his darkest moments, he had never felt like this before, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure it out. Was Missouri right? Was he sick? And if so why was this like no other illness he had ever experienced? It was simply unfair. Hadn’t he suffered enough? Why was the Goddess being so vindictive towards him, what had he done to earn her wrath? Castiel looked towards to the chapel in the distance. He hadn’t been praying as much as he used to as he had been rather distracted as of late, but he was certain that it wouldn’t have angered her.  She wasn’t a demanding Goddess after all. So what then?

For crying out loud, Castiel had come out here to calm down and look where that had got him. His garden had always been a place where he could relax in and unwind. But now he felt even more pent up then he had before. The gorgeous flowers and marble statues did nothing to relieve his stress; it was just green and pretty colours to him. Pointless. How typical was it that Dean was out of the country when he needed him the most. It was all right for him, he was away in Oceania, enjoying the weather and living in the lap of luxury as his men slaved away under the sun.  Dean claimed that he missed him every day, but really Castiel knew that he was lying. He was probably having the time of his life; this was what he had always wanted, fame, glory and a war that would mark his name down in history.

 No, that wasn’t right. What was he thinking? He knew Dean wasn’t like that. He knew that Dean loved him, even if he didn’t say it often. And he knew that Dean was only going to war because Castiel had implored him to.

Castiel stomped his foot into a puddle.  “This is getting ridiculous.” He grumbled and folded his arms across his chest.

“What is? The rain?” Benny asked dryly, even though he looked more like a wet dog. “’Fraid there’s nothing I can do about that. Even though you insisted on coming out here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What then?”

“I don’t know. I-”Castiel faltered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“What?”

Castiel turned away and heaved up onto the grass.

Behind him, Victor and Benny crinkled their noses in disgust. Only when Castiel was finished, did they risk approaching him.

“I think it’s time we go back inside.” Benny said and gently led Castiel along.

He was in no state to protest, but really that sounded like a good idea to him. So he allowed the guard to take him back inside and to his bedroom.

“I’ll go fetch the doctor.” Victor said once he was at door.

“No!” Castiel insisted, his hand over his mouth.  “It’s nothing. I’ve been queasy since breakfast. I probably just ate something bad.”

It wasn’t as if Castiel disliked the physician, in fact he had a great respect for her as without his intervention last winter he would have certainly died. But he was well aware of the fact that she was a busy woman and there were likely hundreds of other people who were more deserving of her attention. He just felt a little sick, that was all. It would pass, it had to.

* * *

 

Much to Castiel’s dismay it didn’t pass.  Or at least not in the way that he wanted it to. The feeling of nausea wasn’t constant. He would be up and about, minding his own business when it snuck up on him and forced him reach for a bucket or bowl. He couldn’t attend court in the fear that he would make a fool of himself and understandably Jessica and Sam didn’t really want to share his company when he was like this. It was unfair, and no matter what he ate or did not eat he kept being sick.

Castiel stared up at his bedroom ceiling and sighed wistfully.  Strewn out on the bed around him were the letters he had received from Dean. He had already read them of course, and he was still waiting on a reply from the last, but reading again them bought him some sense of comfort. And that was enough to stop him being from completely miserable. On the other side of the room Missouri tottered about, cleaning and just generally tidying up. After what happened in the library the other day, it was difficult to tell whether she had forgiven him or not. She seemed the sort who would hold grudges even after she had been apologised to.  Castiel knew the exact moment she noticed the tray of untouched food at the table as she tutted loudly and turned to look in his direction.

“What was wrong with your breakfast? Your tea?”

“Nothing.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What then? Are you not hungry?”

In all honesty he was. He had this awful craving for something sweet and tangy, and it was so bad that he had actually considered heading down to the kitchens himself.  But then of course he was hit with a wave of nausea that made him want to do anything but eat. He was at a loss about what to do.  He didn’t want to starve himself, but he didn’t want to have to keep throwing up. Either way it was a lose lose situation.

“I feel sick.”

“Still?” Missouri asked as she came over to him. She pressed her hand against his forehead and frowned. “You don’t have a fever.” She told him and pulled her hand away.

Castiel sat up a little. “So I’m not sick? What’s wrong with me then?” Because surely there had to be something wrong. It wasn’t natural to feel this way for so long.

Missouri went quiet, thoughtful. “You’re probably pregnant.” She said offhandedly, as if it were the most natural conclusion to come to.

“I’m what?!” Castiel stared absolutely gobsmacked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!!!!!  
> Oh who am I kidding you all saw this coming from a mile away. Also I'm getting some art done for chapter three so keep an eye out! It's gunna look amazing!


	21. Chapter 21

Even when the physician had confirmed that Castiel was indeed pregnant, he still couldn’t believe it.

It was impossible. Well actually no, it wasn’t. Castiel was fully aware that he was able to bear children, but it shouldn’t have happened so quickly. It was supposed to take months if not weeks of trying. He knew of a couple back in Oceania who had been trying to have child for ten years and still neither of them had caught. And yet, Castiel had managed to conceive after just a few days of being intimate with Dean. What were the chances of that? Tiny? Next to nothing? Most women didn’t even conceive this quickly, and their bodies were better adapted for the process. It was just…. How? Why him? And why now?  The timing was awful. If Dean was here then maybe he wouldn’t have be so worried about it all. But he wasn’t, he was far away and just the thought of having to go through this all alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Castiel hadn’t told anyone about this yet. And he had insisted that the doctor and Missouri do the same.  He needed time, and the last thing he wanted was for people to start making a big fuss over him.

So to the best of his ability, he carried on as usual. Which, with his morning sickness, was an increasingly difficult thing to do.

Castiel stood out in the courtyard, arms folded up against his chest as he watched Sam and Jessica get ready for an afternoon ride. Unlike yesterday the weather was lovely, the sun was high in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. If Castiel had been in a better mood, he surely would have wanted to stay outside and take full advantage of the spring warmth. But with how he was feeling, he just wanted to take shelter inside and hide himself away from the world. As if that would do any good.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out on a ride with us?” Sam asked, for what must have been the fifth time that afternoon. “Inias misses you. And the weather is great today; we could go down to the lake and go swimming. You like swimming don’t you?”

 “I’m sorry Sam, I just don’t feel like riding today.”

“Do you still feel ill?” Jessica asked from atop her white mare.

“No.” Castiel insisted a little too quickly. “I just…” He cleared his throat. “I’m recovering still and I don’t want to push it. You can go on without me, I really don’t mind.”

Sam didn’t look convinced, but clambered up onto his horse nonetheless. “Have you told Dean?”

Oh no. Castiel didn’t even want to think about that. He was barely even able to comprehend the fact that he was pregnant, that he was going to have a child, Dean’s child. Let alone even start to consider how he was going to tell him.  What was he even supposed to say? Hi how are you, by the way I’m pregnant? No.  Castiel cringed at the thought. To make matters even worse, he would never have the opportunity to tell Dean in person. Whether he wanted to or not, Castiel was going to have to inform through a letter. And he found the prospect of that incredibly daunting. Not only would he have to wait two weeks, if not longer, to get a response, but there would be no way for him to tell how Dean had initially reacted. Would he be shocked, angry or apathetic? There would be no way for Castiel to know for sure, not really. It was so easy to conceal lies in a letter. The Goddess knew that Castiel had lied to Michael countless of times, and from what he could tell he had been none the wiser.  So what would stop Dean from lying to him? From assuring that everything would be all right, when he knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be?

But of course Sam wasn’t talking about that. 

“No. I don’t want to worry him, he’s got enough on his plate as it is.”

“He deserves to know.” Jessica implored him, her expression soft and understanding.  “Just tell him.”

She was right, of course she was right. “I’ll write to him later.” He sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Sam nodded and tugged at his horse’s reigns.  “We’ll see you at dinner, right?”

That didn’t sound like such a good idea to him, but he didn’t have the heart to say no. “Of course, I’ll see you then.”

Castiel watched as they nudged their horses on and trotted out of sight. He knew that he had chosen to stay behind, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. He knew that Sam would return, but he couldn’t be certain that Dean would. Sighing, Castiel turned around and headed back inside of the castle.

* * *

 

It took Castiel three days to work up the courage to write a letter to Dean.

He had already made a few attempts, but they all ended in him growling in frustration and tearing the paper into ribbons.  For the life of him he just couldn’t find a way to put it into words. His hand shook as he held the quill and the ink dripped down onto the page with a plip plip plip. Castiel cursed and pulled his hand away. Another piece of paper ruined. Why was he finding this so difficult? It was just a letter, and he had easily written several within the past few weeks. But of course, there was more to it than that. This wasn’t just a simple letter; it was going to utterly change his life. For better or for worse. And Castiel was absolutely terrified of what the future might bring. He just didn’t know what to do. He felt as though didn’t have any one to turn to and that he had been left behind to deal with this all alone.

But there was one thing, an alternative that sprung to mind. Something that Castiel would have never ever considered if hadn’t been so overwhelmed. He remembered reading about a poison that was able to kill a child in the womb without causing any harm to the person who carried it. He thought that the physician surely would be able to supply him and that with it he could put this horrible mess behind him. He could go back to his old life and everything would be all right. But the mere thought of killing his child… Castiel just couldn’t do it. It made him feel ashamed, disgusted.  He wouldn’t ever be able to look Dean in the eye again, let alone live with himself after that. Whether this child had been planned or not, it was his and he would do whatever he had to protect and love it. No matter what.

So there was only one thing for it.

 Castiel was going to write that letter and he was going to do it now. Sitting there wasting time wasn’t helping him at all, and if anything the more he thought about it, the more distressed he became. Wiping the tears away from his eyes Castiel pulled out a clean sheet of paper and began to write the letter.

_Dean_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and that my brother’s aren’t giving you too much trouble.  I imagine that it is strange for you to be staying in the palace again. It feels like it was a lifetime ago since you and I were there, together. At least the weather should be cooler at this time of year. I can’t imagine you and your men marching into battle in the heat of summer, you’d surely loose half of your men to heat sickness. Please do be careful though, and make sure you drink plenty and don’t get sun burned if you can help it._

_Pleasantries aside, there is something that I need to tell you. I’ll admit I’ve putting it off for a while, but you need to know and I have to be the one to tell you. I am pregnant._

_Please respond as soon as you can._

_I am sorry._

He decided to keep it short as he didn’t want to run the risk of rambling on and on. Dean was no doubt busy, and he had better things to do with his time then read Castiel’s inane and boring letter. He had said what he needed to say and that was that. Castiel sighed and neatly folded up the letter. He didn’t bother to seal it closed, as that would be too formal and time consuming, and instead slipped it into an envelope.  There, it was done. He was going to have it sent off right away and then there would be nothing for him to but wait, and hope for the best.

* * *

 

It had been days since Castiel had voluntarily left his room, and he could no longer use his morning sickness as an excuse. Thankfully, the nausea had faded, and he usually only felt sick when he was around smelly food.  Meat was a no go, and even the sight of his favourite types of fish made him gag and reach for a bucket.  He was practically living off fruits, pastries and the occasional bowl of vegetable stew.  The servants still gave him a wide birth, probably in the fear that his illness was contagious. However, Missouri was an exception to that rule, and for the second time that day she strode into his room unannounced, much to Castiel’s obvious annoyance.

“His Highness wants to see you.” She said, her hands on her hips.

“Did Sam say what he wanted?”  Castiel asked, disinterested. He hadn’t even bothered to sit up in bed, he just continued to stare up at the ceiling, his hands lightly resting on his stomach.

“No, but he said it was urgent.”

“If it was so urgent then why didn’t he come himself?”

Missouri pressed her lips in thin, displeased, line. “I’m not your messenger, if you’ve a problem with his Highness go tell him yourself.”

 “No, I don’t want to.”

“Why? Cause you got other, more important things to do, your Highness? Like laying around and feeling sorry for yourself?”

Castiel sat up and scowled at her.  “It’s not like that.”

“What then?” She asked, her voice stiff and judgemental. She sighed and when she spoke again there was motherly tenderness to her voice. “I can’t even begin to understand how difficult this is for you, but hiding yourself away like this isn’t healthy .You have to put your feelings aside and do what’s best for the baby. Even if that means doing stuff you don’t want to.”

Missouri wasn’t right, wasn’t she? He couldn’t just spend all of his time waiting and dreading the moment that Dean’s letter would arrive. But knowing that didn’t make this any easier. Casting his worries and fears away wasn’t as easy as that. They had been growing ,festering , for days on end, keeping him awake at night and making him sob into his pillow so that the guards outside wouldn’t hear. He just couldn’t shake them loose, no matter how hard he tried. And by the Goddess he had tried.

“And what does this have to do with seeing Sam?”

“Nothing. Just go and talk to him, or so help me.”

“Fine.” Castiel huffed and climbed out of bed.  He pulled on his dressing gown (it was actually Dean’s) and headed out into the hall way.

“Nice to see you again Cas.” Benny said with a big grin. “Where we off to?”

“Wherever Sam is I guess.” He shrugged.

“That’ll be Dean’s office then.”

And with that, the three of them headed off down the hallway.

“What is he doing in Dean’s office?” Castiel couldn’t help but ask.

“There’s some stuff he has to deal with, letters to write, papers to sign. The usual. And from what I can tell he’s pretty damn good at it, takes it more serious than Dean does anyway.”

Castiel wasn’t too surprised. Putting Sam in charge was the wisest course of action Dean could have taken. And it was good to see that he was able to handle the difficult and daunting task of governing the Kingdom without too much trouble. But Castiel still couldn’t figure out why Sam wanted to see him, though he supposed he would find out soon enough. There wasn’t a need to knock on the office doors as they were already wide open. As soon as Sam noticed them approach, he waved him forward and invited him to sit down.  It was strange seeing Sam at Dean’s desk, and even though the role of Prince Regent suited him rather well, Castiel had a very hard time imaging him wear the crown.  Surely his hair would get in the way, wouldn’t it?

Benny and Victor closed the doors behind him and Sam didn’t hesitate in getting down to business.

“I know.” He said.

“You know what?” Castiel asked with a confused tilt of his head.

“That you’re pregnant.”

Castiel stared and it felt as though time had stopped. What? How?  It wasn’t as if he had been walking around with the words ‘I am pregnant’ stamped on his forehead. It was true that there had been signs, and that some of them had been pretty obvious, but it wasn’t the natural conclusion that most people would jump to. And Castiel firmly recalled that Sam seemed convinced when he had assured him it had been a simple illness and that all his throwing up had absolutely nothing to do with morning sickness. Not that he had put it like that, obviously. So what had caused him to change his mind? And why did he seem so sure of his words?

“Missouri told me.” Sam admitted, answering the obvious lingering question.

“But…. She promised not to!” Castiel couldn’t help but feel betrayed, she had given him his word and look at what she had gone and done!

Out of shame, Castiel couldn’t even look at Sam. Goddess knows what he thought of him. This wasn’t what he needed right now, and all he wanted to do was crawl back into his room and hide away forever. Or at least as long as he could until Missouri dragged him out by his ear.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and even then his voice trembled.

“Cas it’s okay! I’m not mad, I promise.”

“You’re not?” Castiel looked up to see if he was telling the truth.

And the earnest expression on his face told Castiel that he was. “Of course not! Why would you even think that?”

Now that Sam mentioned it, he did feel a rather silly. “I don’t know. I just.... I just thought you’d hate me.”

“Cas you know I don’t hate you, you’re my friend and this doesn’t change that.”

“What about Dean?  He’s going to be so angry at me.” Tears stung the corners of his eyes and Castiel yet again cursed himself for crying.

“What?” Sam both looked and sounded as though he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.  “There’s no way he’s going to be mad. Sure, he might be surprised, but I promise you Cas he’s not going to be mad. He’s smitten with you and I don’t think anything you could do would ever change that.”

“You think?” Castiel asked. Oh how desperately he wanted to believe him.

“Of course! Come here.” Sam got out of his chair and gently pulled him into a hug.  “You have nothing to worry about.  Okay?”

Castiel nodded and couldn’t help but feel as though a massive weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. “Okay.”

After a moment he pulled away and sat back down in his seat. Sam then did the same. He looked down at the papers in front of him and frowned in thought, as if troubled. “I’m glad we sorted that out, but that wasn’t why I called you here.”

“What then?”

“I’ve been given reason to believe that… whoever was behind the vandalism of your chapel, the framing of Matthew Pike, the assassination of my Father and your attempted assassination is still in here in Winchester. And that if they are as smart as think they are, then they’ll take full advantage of Dean’s absence.”

That was a lot of information to take in at once, and it took Castiel a long moment to catch up. “How do you know all of this?”

Sam shrugged. “I have my sources.”

“Okay…. So what are we going to do about it?”

“What can we do? I can’t just start randomly pointing the finger at people and hope I’m right.  We need proof. And even if I had it, there’s not much I could do anyway, because I’m only acting as Dean’s regent. So either way we’re screwed.”

“So we’re possibly all in danger and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it? At least not directly.”

“Exactly! Do you see my problem?” Sam asked, exasperated. 

Castiel did, he saw it as clear as day.

 

* * *

Castiel knew that this wasn’t what Sam had in mind when they had discussed taking action, but like Sam he wasn’t going to sit idly by and ignore the threat that hid in the shadows. That was what John had decided to do and look what happened to him. He was dead because he had been foolish enough to underestimate his enemies.  And now that Castiel was bearing a child, there was no way he was going to allow something like that to ever happen again, even if it meant that he was going to have to do some legwork on his own. And so Castiel roamed the streets of Laurence with his two loyal guards by his sides.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea, giving your condition and all.” Benny said, as he walked by Castiel’s side.

“I’m pregnant, I’m not dying.”

Victor glanced around to make sure that no one was within earshot. “I’m gunna have to agree with Benny, this is a stupid idea.”

“Look,” Castiel came to a stop.  “All I’m going to do is ask around, see if anyone has heard anything.  If it looks like I’m in any sort of danger, then by all means you do your jobs and get me to safety. Okay?”

“Fine.” Victor reluctantly agreed. “But if things go south, even by just a little, we are getting you out of there.”

“Agreed.” Castiel nodded and began to walk along again.

He had never been to this part of the city before; it was mostly a residential area and was crammed to the brim with old, stone houses with thatched rooftops. The street itself was thick with churned mud and crowded with commoners who, either out of fear of his guards or out of respect for him, gave Castiel a wide birth as they passed.  It felt strange for Castiel to be out in public like this again, and aside from the lingering smell of animal manure it was actually rather nice to be out and about. The weather was fine and his interest was piqued by all the sights and sounds for him to take in. Of course, he had to remind himself why he was there in the first place; he hadn’t come out for a pleasant afternoon stroll.  No, this was where he was starting his investigation and all he had to do was find the right people to talk to.

“Excuse me,” Castiel called as he approached an elderly man who sweeping away the dirt outside the front of his house.

“Your Highness!” He nearly dropped his broom.  “Please forgive me for not bowing; my back isn’t what it used to be.”

“That’s quite all right; I was wondering if you know where Matthew Pike used to live?”

The old man looked down to his feet; he was wearing dirty brown slippers that were tearing apart at the seams. “I know where his Ma lives, yeah.”

“Could you point me in her direction? Please.”

“She’s not in trouble too is she?”  He asked, clearly concerned.

“No of course not, I would just like to talk to her.”

The old man pointed down the road with a bony finger. “Keep on going; it’s the cottage on the left. The one next to the well.”

“Thank you.” Castiel said, relieved. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled a couple of gold coins. “Please, buy yourself some new shoes. You’ve earned it.”

The man accepted the coins with bumbling hands and toothless grin. “Why thank you your Highness. God bless you.”

Castiel smiled and turned away to follow his directions. Just as he had said, the cottage was down the road and to the left. Like most of the other houses in this area it was in need of some repairs, but with most of the men away at war it would probably be a long time before anyone got around to it. Castiel knocked on the front door, and a few moments later a tired, middle aged woman opened it up. Her blonde hair was thinning and her eyes were bloodshot and lifeless.

“Can I help you?” She asked with a raspy voice.

“Yes. Hello, um, I’d like to talk to you about your son, Matthew. If that’s okay.”

The woman’s eyes bulged wide and she suddenly slammed the door closed in his face.

Castiel blinked, momentarily stunned.  “I uh… Ma'am?” He knocked again.

“No! Go away!”

“Do want me to break it down?” Benny suggested.

“No, we’re not breaking her door down. Look ma'am, I just want to talk. I swear you are not in any trouble.”

“My son is dead! What is there to talk about?”

“I believe your son was framed. I just want to know if you can think of _anyone_ who would do that to him. And why.”

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened the door.  “You better come in then, get away from prying ears.”

The first thing Castiel noticed was that the cottage was an utter mess.  It was dark and dank, and the only source of light came from the fireplace.  Mrs Pike gestured for them to sit on the floor with her by the fire, but both Castiel and his guards refused.

“Matthew used to work in the castle kitchens.” She told them. “He was coming home one night, after one of your big parties, and these men attacked him, dragged him down an alley. They put a knife to his throat, they said they’d kill him unless he helped them.”

“Help them do what?”

“They wanted information about the castle guards, and you.”

“What did he tell them?” Castiel asked, desperate to know.

“He told them everything he knew, he had to. They were going to kill him! After that they let him go and he came running home. I told him to tell the guards but he wouldn’t, he was scared he would get in trouble. And then a few days later the guards came for him, said he was under arrest for _treason_. I told them that he didn’t do it but they never believed me.” She sighed and her head fell into her hands. When she spoke again her was muffled and weak. “And then it was too late, he was dead.”

“I know this doesn’t mean much, but I am so sorry for your loss. Matthew didn’t deserve that and I promise I will do everything in my power to bring those who framed him to justice.” And by the Goddess he meant every word of it, Castiel wouldn’t stop until there was justice.

 “Just go.”

Castiel was tempted to push a little further, to see if she had any more information. But he wasn’t a monster; he wasn’t going to force a woman who was clearly still grieving to talk when she didn’t want to.

“I know this won’t bring Matthew back but, I want you to have this.” Castiel told her and once again reached into his pocket to pull out some money.  He dropped the coins into her open hands, before turning away and leaving dusty and dark cottage.

* * *

 

Neither Castiel nor Sam were expecting any guests that afternoon, and yet he had been told by a lookout, that as clear as day he had seen several horses galloping up the hill towards the castle.  They weren’t soldiers, and they couldn’t have been a messenger as they usually travelled alone, so who they then? And why where they traveling with such haste? The castle gates had been closed as a precaution, but Castiel was almost certain that they weren’t demons. After all they wouldn’t have ridden straight to the castle without murdering and pillaging along the way. And as of yet there hadn’t been any reports of any attacks in the surrounding settlements.  But even so, the few guards that remained were on high alert and were more than willing to spring into action if need be.  Benny and Victor lingered by Castiel’s side, and were waiting for the exact moment that they would have reason to drag Castiel back inside to safety. Even Sam had protested, and had said that he could handle this alone, that it wasn’t safe for Castiel to be out there in the courtyard. But Castiel would be damned if he was going to cower from these strangers. He was going to stay and he was going to find out himself what they wanted.

The sound of thundering hooves grew louder, and on top the ramparts the archers drew their bows at the guard captain’s command.

“Halt!” The guard captain yelled. “State your name and intention.”

The horses came to a stop and from the other side of the gate Castiel heard a familiar voice.

“I am Zachariah of Oceania and I was sent by my King. Until I speak to Prince Castiel I will say nothing more.”

“Open the gates.” Castiel commanded, and the guards sprang into action and began to heave them open.

“What, do you know him?” Sam asked, still wary.

“Yes, he’s the royal advisor. Michael’s most trusted servant. He was at the wedding and the coronation, remember?”

Sam still looked dumbfounded. “Okay, but why is he here? What does he want?”

“I have no idea. We’ll just have to wait and see won’t we?”

Eventually the gates were opened and Zachariah and his accomplices entered the courtyard. The castle guards didn’t seem to know what to make of them, and despite the fact that they obviously weren’t a threat they chose not sheathe their weapons. Zachariah and his men dismounted their horses and made their way over to where Castiel and Sam stood.

“Your Highnesses.” He greeted and gave a shallow bow. “It is so good to see you again Castiel. You look absolutely radiant, pregnancy suits you!”

Castiel froze. What? How did he know about that? It was true that Castiel had gained some weight over the past few weeks, but he wasn’t showing. Not yet. The only way he could have found out was… Damn it. So how had Michael found out? Had Dean voluntarily told him, or had he stolen the letter and read it for himself?  Still, that didn’t explain why Zachariah was here in the first place. It must be pretty damn important; otherwise they would have surely sent someone else. Someone of a lower social standing.

“Thank you.” Castiel replied coolly. “You said that Michael sent you, why?”

“Cutting right to the chase I see. You haven’t changed at all have you?” He asked, in that classic smarmy way of his. “Well, I was sent here to watch over you. Your brother was concerned that with your husband away you wouldn’t take good care of yourself. So here I am.”

Michael thought that Castiel needed someone to watch over him? And he thought that Zachariah was the best candidate?  Who was he trying to fool here? Castiel wasn’t buying that excuse for one moment, and it appeared as though Sam wasn’t either. They couldn’t call Zachariah out on it though, because he knew that he would just deny it and play innocent. It seemed there was little Castiel could do but play along for the moment.

“He is too kind.”

“Isn’t he?” Zachariah agreed with a smirk. “Oh and while I remember, I have some letters for you., one from your husband and one from Gabriel.”

Castiel took the letters and stared down at them for a long moment. “Well,” he said. “I am sure we have much to talk about. Shall we go inside?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note, I personally have no problem with those who chose to have abortions. I don't think that is something to be ashamed of or that it is a taboo. Some people choose to have one and other's don't , Cas is in the latter group. 
> 
> And just for a heads up the next chapter will be in Dean's POV. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Ohhh and I just remembered, there is some new art work for chapter 3 so check it out! It looks great!


	22. Chapter 22

Dean and his men had been on the road for what felt like an eternity, and honestly he just wanted to get this journey over and done with.

For the first few weeks it hadn’t been so bad, he had been patient, or at least as patient as he could manage.  But now that he had been on the road for four and a half damn weeks his patience was wearing thin. The going was just so slow! He only had five hundred soldiers at his back and still they were traveling at a snail’s pace. There was far too much stopping and starting, stopping and starting, but he could hardly blame his men now could he? Most, if not all of them had never left Winchester before; they just weren’t used to traveling for such long periods of time. Yes, Dean was feeling impatient as hell but he wasn’t a dick and he certainly wasn’t going to take it out on his men.  The last thing he wanted to do was cause their morale to plummet this early on when there was so much shit and bloodshed ahead. Believe it or not, this was the easy part, and aside from a few botched attempts at ambushes, their journey had been pretty uneventful.  Nothing to complain about, not really, or so he kept telling himself.

At least he couldn’t bitch about the view, as Oceania was every bit as gorgeous as he remembered. From behind him, Dean heard his men gasp in awe and chatter excitedly amongst themselves. They had never seen such a landscape, so they couldn’t be blamed for mistaking Oceania for some sort of paradise or heaven on earth. But as nice as the sea, sand and greenery was Dean knew better than to get fooled into thinking that this was some sort of haven.  Even without the demon threat Oceania was far from perfect.

“We should cross over Oceania’s borders any minute now.” Bobby said as he rode beside Dean.

“Then where’s Michael?  You’d think he’d keep a closer eye on his borders, especially considering those demons we ran into earlier.”

“Oh he’ll be here; I just reckon he’s the sort who likes to be fashionably late.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

True to Bobby’s word, a few moments later Michael came riding into sight, with a small battalion of soldiers armed with spears following him on foot.  Michael stopped a few feet short of Dean and once his soldiers had caught up, they did the same. However, they were all out of breath and were doing a poor job of hiding it. Dean was going to have to have a word with Michael later about that, but for now greetings were in order. Oh how Dean hated the whole song and dance, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. He was a King and he had his part to play.

Dean tugged at Impala’s reigns and brought her to a stop. Both Bobby and all of his soldiers followed suit. “Michael.”

But he wasn’t even looking at him, let alone paying attention to what he was saying.  “Where are the rest of your men? Surely this can’t be it, you told me your army is in the tens of thousands.”

Oh, so that was what he was gawking at? Dean quickly peered over his shoulder before he looked back at him. “Oh it is. Don’t worry, the rest are on their way. We had a couple of delays so we had to split up, but they’ll be here, I promise.”

Honestly, there was much more to it than that. But Dean wasn’t in the mood to go into the details of it and try to explain why it was so incredibly difficult to keep such a big army moving as one, tight unit. And whilst it was true that they would have to wait for the rest of his men to arrive, from what he could tell they had time. The demon army was (at the minimum) five times bigger than his own, so he didn’t think that the main bulk of the horde would be getting here any time soon.  And he hoped by then all possible preparations would be made and that a solid and dependable strategy would be formed to deal with the impending invasion.

“I see.” Michael nodded, as if appeased. For now. “Well, I imagine that you and your men must be exhausted. Come, I have a room set up for you in the palace. And space has been prepared on the beach so that your men can set up camp.”

Dean nodded and then turned to Bobby to issue his commands. “For now just have the men set up camp, give them extra rations and let them rest up. But first thing tomorrow morning I want hourly patrols along the borders where possible. I’ll swing by when I can. Understood?”

“Yes your Majesty.” Bobby ducked his head respectfully and the gestured for the men to follow him down the separate, if not somewhat thin path that led to the beach.

“Now, shall we head back to the palace?” Michael asked, diverting Dean’s attention back to him.

The palace wasn’t far, but still Dean wasn’t exactly looking forward to having to spend quality time with his wonderful and beloved brother-in-law. He was willing enough to work with him in making war preparations and the like, but that didn’t mean that Dean liked the guy. Not one bit. For one he killed his own dad just so he could get the throne a little earlier.  Then he beat the hell out of his own brother to stop him from ratting him out. And then he had the fucking nerve to boss Cas around like he owned him or something.  Cas was his own person, and the thought of Michael seeing him a pawn, something to be used, made Dean absolutely livid and if he had his own way he’d tell Michael to go and fuck himself.  But of course he couldn’t do that. The treaty was still firmly in place and whether Dean liked it or not he was bound by his Father’s word.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Dean agreed and nudged Impala forward.

* * *

There was so much for Dean and Michael to discuss, but thankfully they both agreed that it could wait until tomorrow. Michael had of course invited Dean to share dinner with him in dining room, but Dean had politely, if not a little sharply, turned him down. There was no way that he would be willing to sit down and have dinner with that smarmy bastard, not if he could help it. He’d rather eat alone in his bedroom, which is what he ended up doing. The room in question was actually Cas’ old room, but there had been a few changes made here and there. The furniture for one had been upgraded and it didn’t seem nearly as personal and homely as it had when Cas had ruled the roost. Other than stuff his face with fruit pastries and the occasional bit of meat, there wasn’t much for Dean to do. There weren’t any books laying around for him to read and he certainly hadn’t bought any of his own. He had only packed the necessities. And so he resorted to wandering around the palace, though it wasn’t that exciting as he had seen it all before.

In the end Dean found himself out on the balcony, leaning against a wall as he looked out at the ocean.  The sun was setting and was just about to disappear below the horizon. Dean could already see some of the stars dotted and shining in the sky, and he couldn’t help but think of Cas and how he would have loved to see this. To be here with him. Cas loved the stars and he had, on several occasions, dragged Dean out of their room in the dead of night so they could sit in the garden and watch the stars together.  Dean always thought Cas’ stories about the stars were a little stupid, after all how             and why would his Goddess throw silver coins up into the sky to create the stars? It seemed like a pretty stupid theory to him. But he hadn’t dared to say that aloud, not when Cas had been looking up at sky with such awe and wonder in his eyes.

Damn it. Dean sighed and his shoulders slumped down.  So much for not thinking about Cas. How long had he lasted? A day? A few hours? He had sworn to himself that as soon as he got to Oceania he wouldn’t allow his thoughts to get carried away like that. That he would keep focused on the task at hand and he absolutely wouldn’t mope and lament about how much he missed Cas.  This really really sucked. It felt as though Dean had forcibly ripped off a part of himself and had left it behind in Winchester, and now he had a gaping, bleeding hole that constantly reminded him that something was missing. That something wasn’t right. Even after all this time he could still barely believe that Cas had managed to do this to him, to change him like this. It was for the better, of course it was, but nothing could have prepared him for how changeable his emotions would be. He didn’t know if he was coming or going, whether he was going to feel elated, on top of the world, or glum and pining for Cas like he was some sort of lovelorn maiden.  Which was actually pretty pathetic now that he thought about it.

But despite all that, Dean still stood by his decision to not to bring Castiel.  The further away he was from Michael, the better. Not to mention the incoming shirt storm with the demons.  He had assured Cas that he’d be back in no time, but who was he kidding? This wasn’t going to be a quick and easy fix.  He and his army couldn’t just gallop in and sweep this mess under the rug. Whether Dean wanted to or not, he was going to be here for the long run. Never in all of Winchester’s history had the demons ever given up easily and without a fight.  And with Lucifer leading the demonic horde he had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be an exception to that rule.

But he should be happy, right? After all this was his best chance at following in his Dad’s footsteps, of finishing what he had started and wiping those demon fuckers off the face of continent.  The legacy was everything after all, wasn’t it? Dean sighed. Yeah, that wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now.  He was just a simple warrior; he didn’t have it in him to deal with something as big and as important as his family’s legacy. Sometimes he wished that Sam was older than him, as he was a far better suited for the role of King than Dean was.

“Pull yourself together Winchester.” Dean muttered and rubbed at his eyes.

He decided that he was too tired for this, that he wanted to turn in early so that he could be well rested for tomorrow. Because he had no doubt that spending an entire day making war plans with Michael was really going to make him loose his patience with the man.

* * *

 Dean sighed and leaned back into his chair.  It was early morning; the sun had barely just risen in the sky, and he was already bored out of his mind. Being surrounded by a bunch of old men and Michael wasn’t exactly how he wanted to start his day. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice, he had to attend this war council whether he wanted to or not.  During the half an hour he had spent sitting there in his command tent wishing he could anywhere else, he couldn’t help but notice that Michael and his fellow Oceanians knew next to nothing about tactics and warfare.

Oh they talked the talk well enough, but that’s all it was, talk. It was all bluster and sweeping statements, vague plans and optimistic expectations.  And it was all completely worthless. For all their intelligence and political knowhow, these Oceanians were not fit to be called tacticians. Let alone actually try to come up with a feasible strategy. They simply had no collective experience between them, and Dean assumed that most, if not all, of their knowledge came from reading outdated books from the palace library. Hell, Dean was even willing to bet on his Baby that none of them had ever even held a sword before, let alone been on a battle field. They were ignorant, plain and simple.  And that ignorance would be their downfall. They were too proud, too assured that they were going to have a swift and decisive victory. When in reality, it was going to be hard won through blood, sweat and tears.

Dean knew that he was being petty, spiteful even, but he couldn’t help but want to watch Michael fail. If Michael wanted to be an idiot and charge headfirst into the demon horde, then so be it. It wasn’t Dean’s job to baby sit him and honestly, he just wanted to see him be knocked off of his high horse. That would put him into place and make him realise that he wasn’t a master tactician; he was just a usurper King who was in way over his head.

 As much as he wanted to take Michael down a peg or two, he knew that he couldn’t let him take go ahead with this pathetic excuse for a battle plan. He couldn’t just sit back and let hundreds, if not thousands of his men die just because he wanted to prove a point.  No, that wasn’t the sort of man he was, and that wasn’t the sort of King he wanted to be.  His men had put their faith in him and the last thing he wanted to do was betray their trust. Some of them were going to die, he understood and accepted that, but that didn’t mean he was going to throw them into the demons path and hope for the best. He had a part to play and if meant that he was going to have to butt heads with Michael over battle tactics then so be it, it was a price that he was more than willing to pay.

“My scouts have reported that demon activity seems to be concentrated to the Northwest, suggesting that the demon horde will be coming from that direction. We must march there as soon as possible and intercept them before they approach our borders.” Michael explained as he pointed at the map on the table.

His advisors all nodded and murmured in agreement. Dean knew for a fact that even if they didn’t agree with him, none of them would have the balls to say so. After all, Michael had his brother beaten to a pulp for threatening to snitch on him, so what would he do to a lowly advisor who was stupid enough to tell him no? He’d probably have them drowned or worse, Dean didn’t know and he didn’t care to find out.

“And what of you Dean?” Michael asked, finally noticing Dean’s lack of participation. It wasn’t as if Bobby had been listening either, but Michael never paid him any heed.  Apparently he wasn’t worth his time. “What do you think of the plan?”

 “Well, I was just thinking…. how soon is as soon possible? Because you know it’s going to be weeks before the rest of my men arrive.”

 “Can’t you tell them hurry up?”

 “I could, but I don’t see any reason to.”

“And why is that? I thought you of all people would understand the need for urgency. We need to act, and we need to act now before it’s too late.”

“I understand.” Dean insisted, as he leaned forward in his seat, as is to prove he was actually paying attention. “But I’ve dealt with demons more times than you could count; I know how they work, how they think. And those demons your men ran into? They’re just raiding parties sent ahead of the main horde. It’s what demons do. They send small groups ahead to stir up shit and cause problems.  They’re not the main threat, and I guarantee you if we try to chase them down they’ll just turn tail and lead us straight to the demon army and we’ll get out asses handed to us. “

 “And what would _you_ suggest we do then?”

Michael clearly didn’t appreciate having his authority undermined, but Dean (being the mature one for once) pretended that he didn’t notice his loathing glare. Instead he got up out of his seat and leaned over on the table so that he could have a proper look at the map. It was a map of the southern part of the content and primarily focused on Oceania and the land that surrounded its borders.  To the Northwest the land was steep and a thick rainforest covered the mountainous slopes. But beyond that, the land levelled out and the hills turned into flat grasslands and prairies.

 “Attacking them head on isn’t an option .There’s too many of them, we’d be overwhelmed within minutes.” Dean told them. “We’ll need a choke point, somewhere with high ground. But we’d also need an open space to fall back on for battle. Here should do.” Dean reached forward and pointed at a spot on the map.

“But that is a week’s ride from here.” One of Michael’s advisors blurted out.

“I can see that, but like I said, we have time. In the meanwhile, whilst we wait for my men to get here we need to secure the North-western border.” Dean turned to his friend and commander. “Bobby, I want you to have our men establish several camps outside of country here and here” he pointed accordingly on the map. “Not only will these camps keep the raiding parties out, but we can also use them as a base for our scouts to work from. We need to gather more info on what we’re up against.”

Bobby nodded and pushed himself up out of his seat.  “I’ll do it right away, your Majesty.” He promised, and with that he ducked out of the tent. 

There was a lot he had to do, and he didn’t have much time to do it in. Dean didn’t envy Bobby one bit, but he was endlessly thankful that he was there with him as his commander and most trusted advisor.  Honestly, Dean wouldn’t know what he would do without him. Not that he would ever admit that aloud.

“Yes, now that has been decided,” Michael said, as if he were bored. “There is still one more thing that we need to discuss.”

Dean sat down on the corner of the table and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

“Even though I have every bit of faith in our cause, we still need to put plans into place for a worst case scenario. If, by some unforeseeable event, our forces are overrun, the Kingdom and my people will be at the Lucifer and his demons mercy.  You and I both know how that will end, and is something that I cannot allow.”

His advisors muttered in agreement and for once Dean had to admit that he was actually making a good point there. If everything went according to plan, not a single civilian would get caught in the cross fire. But what were the chances of everything going smoothly? Dean was many things, but he wasn’t an optimist. And the last thing he wanted was for innocents to die just because they hadn’t been able to do their job properly.

“What do you have in mind then?”

 “A mass evacuation.” Michael gestured to the few small islands that were dotted along the coastline.  “They are already occupied, but there should be enough room.”

“Yeah that could work.” He agreed, but then he noticed the large Island that Michael had failed to mention or include. “What about this one? Why not ship them off to one big Island instead of splitting them up?”

“It doesn’t belong to me.  It used to be one of Oceania’s many island colonies, but they rebelled hundreds of years ago and have been an independent state ever since.”  Michael sneered, obviously bitter about it.

“You didn’t think to ask them for help?”

“Of course I did, and their Queen refused. The demons don’t have boats or ships, they are completely safe from an invasion.”

Dean couldn’t blame them; it wasn’t as if he was helping Michael out of the kindness of his heart. “Okay, so when do you think this will happen?”

“As soon as possible.”

* * *

 The docks were in a state of organised chaos.

Oceanians hurried about, carrying all sorts of luggage and bits of furniture as they boarded the boats that floated in the shallows. All sorts of people, families, fishermen and evens some of the palace servants were getting ready to leave the mainland. As Dean watched on the beach, he noticed one of his soldiers carrying a goat for a little old lady who was clearly too feeble to do it herself.  The sight made him smile and he decided that posting some of his men at the docks had been a good idea. He was however, surprised at how many of them had volunteered to help. At first he thought that they just wanted to slack off, but after a little while of standing back and watching he soon realised that wasn’t the case. 

For whatever reason, the locals seemed very fond of his soldiers.  On some nights they would bring exotic foods and drinks to their camp and would join them around the fire, tell stories and generally have a great time. Dean wondered if that was just their way of showing their gratitude, after all, they would be risking their lives to protect Oceania. But it was more than that, many of the locals seemed… interested in his men. And if there was one thing Dean knew for certain, it was that Oceanians were not prude about getting what they wanted. Dean was a little envious of them actually, because people from Oceania were (for the most part) pretty damn attractive. It wasn’t as if Dean had any intentions committing adultery or anything like that. In fact, he would never even dream of betraying Cas’ trust, but he did have eyes and it did suck that some of his men had a hot somebody to share their tent with, whilst he had to sleep alone.

All of that aside, Dean was actually impressed that Michael was following through with his promise to evacuate his people as soon as he was able to. It took a few weeks and cost quite bit of money (as extra boats had to be built), but at least now he could be certain that the people of Oceania would be safe. No matter what happened. Michael was still an ass, but at least he did well by his people. And from what he had been told, his siblings would soon be taken off shore to a secure location, wherever that was supposed to be.

“Dean.” Bobby greeted in his usual gruff tone. “Just received word that your uncle and his men are nearing the border. They’ll be here soon, a couple of hours at most.”

Dean turned to look at him. “About time.”

“A courier was at the palace, he had a letter for you. From Cas no doubt.”

“How do you know that? It could be from someone else. I have friends you know.”

Bobby gave him the sort of look that could only translate into ‘yeah right.’ “Just take the damn letter, I’ve better things to do than stand around and gawp at the locals.”

Gawping? Dean wasn’t gawping. He was just making sure that Michael had kept his promise. And from the looks of it he had, so Dean didn’t have to worry.  He would have been pissed if Michael wasn’t pulling his own weight, after all Dean and his men were doing the brunt of the work. So the least he could do was make sure his people got out safe.

“See you around Bobby.” Dean said, grinning a little, before he watched his commander head back up the beach towards the ever growing camp.

Dean looked down the envelope in his hands. It was small, unassuming, and if Dean hadn’t recognised the handwriting on the front he would have wondered who it was from. What happened to Cas’ fancy stationary? And why wasn’t the envelope sealed? Dean stepped forward and he felt something press against the bottom of his bare foot, so he bent down and picked it up. It was a seashell, a spiralling cone that sort of looked like a unicorn’s horn. If such a thing existed. Unsurprisingly, Dean couldn’t help but think of Cas and whether he would have liked the shell.  He knew for a fact (and had learned the hard way) that Cas didn’t appreciate fancy trinkets and whatnots.  But he did seem to like more reasonable and down to earth sort of gifts. And what could be more down to earth than a sea shell he had picked up off the beach? He was certain that Cas would like it, so he stuffed into his pocket.

Dean then opened the envelope and read the letter.

He smiled fondly; Cas was so caring, so attentive. Only he would worry or even care whether he got sun burned or not.

But then his smile slipped away.

_I am sorry._

This was good news wasn’t it? It was great, wonderful, but it was also earthshattering, life changing. And oh fuck Dean was going to be dad! Fucking hell, he really didn’t know what to make of that. He couldn’t quite process it. He knew that it was going to happen one day; he hoped that it would at least, but right now? Fuck, God had a terrible sense of timing didn’t he? Still, he supposed that they had sort of been asking for it. They had been going at it like rabbits after all. But still, what were the chances?  Wasn’t it supposed to take time and effort? Dean would have given himself a pat on the back or something, but he was still a little… Dazed, was that the right word? He was going to have a kid, Cas was going to have his child. And he was stuck here at the ass end of the continent not able to do a damn thing.

Dean quickly read the letter again. And then again.

 Cas was pregnant, and he was _sorry_.

Sorry for what? That was what worried him the most. It terrified him. And God, Dean couldn’t even imagine what Cas was going through. Alone.  Sure, he wasn’t ‘alone’ alone, but Dean knew what he was like. Cas wouldn’t tell Sam, he would just clam up and probably hide away in his room and be miserable.  He’d sit there worrying about it, probably to the point that it would make him sick. And standing there, thinking about how far away Cas was, how scared, how distressed he must be… Well it made Dean’s chest tighten in panic.

He had to go. Right now. He needed to tell Cas in person. He had to make sure he was okay.

Dean stuffed the letter into his pocket and tore up the beach, towards the palace.

* * *

 Dean arrived at the palace courtyard, panting and sweating furiously.  But he didn’t care, there was only one thing on his mind and absolutely nothing was going to deter him.

“You there,” Dean yelled at one of the few remaining stable boys. “Prepare my horse. Now!”

“I-yes my Lord.” The boy scampered towards the stables, but Dean didn’t hang around to watch.

He ran up the palace steps two at a time, stormed into the foyer and went up the long set of stairs that eventually led to his room.  It was exactly how he had left it that morning, except the bed had been made and his breakfast had long been cleared away. Dean grabbed his satchel and began shoving clothes into it. He didn’t plan on taking much, just the bare necessities, but even then it would be several boxes worth of supplies. Damn it. And with the way the roads were these days he couldn’t risk going on his own could he? Not if he wanted to get there in once piece. Fine, he’d bring some of his men along with him. Ten at most. Hooking the bag over his shoulder, Dean grabbed his sword and shield from the wall and went back the way he came. Where the hell was his horse? Hadn’t he told the stable boy to be quick about it? Dean entered the stable expecting to see the boy faffing about, but instead Michael was there. And he was stroking Impala’s snout as if he had been expecting him. Dean stared at him for a long moment and then dropped his bag to the ground. It landed with quiet thud, a couple of horses huffed at the sound.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Michael asked, casually. As if it was an offhand question.

“I have to go back. Cas needs me.”

“You can’t. I won’t allow it.”

“Try and stop me then. We’ll see how well that goes.” Dean snapped and barged Michael out of the way so he could get to his horse.

Seemingly unfazed, Michael stepped to the side.  “You’re planning on going alone?”

 “If I have to.” Dean said as he fiddled with Impala’s saddle.

“Hmm. Pray tell, how do you intend on paying me back the dowry, and all that extra money that I so kindly gave you to you?”

Dean froze.

“Your kingdom was in debt was it not? Without me you and your people would be starving, or worse.” Michael turned on him. “Because of me you have a loving husband, and you will soon have a child, an heir. I gave you everything! And believe me when I say that I can and will take it all away if I must! Do you understand?”

He didn’t respond and Michael took that as a cue to continue.

“Dean," he said, his voice calmer, more in control. "I understand your concern. But there is no need to act so rashly. In fact, I have a perfect solution to your problem.”

Dean finally found his voice. “And what’s that?”

“I’ll send an envoy, one of my advisors, Zachariah to watch over him.” Michael took a step closer and laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean had to stop himself from shrugging it off. “It is imperative that you and I work together. Not just for my kingdoms sake, but for yours as well, because you and I both know that as soon as the demons are done here they will march straight to Winchester.  And without you to defend it, it will be doomed.”

“I know.” He agreed.

“Good.” Michael patted his shoulder, as if rewarding an obedient dog. “Now if you’re quick you can send a letter with Zachariah. I’m sure you and Castiel have much to discuss.”

“I- yeah. I’ll get to it.”

“Wonderful. I shall see you later at the war council.”  

Michael then left the stables, leaving Dean behind amongst the hay and horses. He didn’t move or go to pick up his bag. He just stood there in quiet, inextinguishable fury.  Never in all of his life had he ever had such an intense desire to kill someone.  He couldn’t, not now.  But he swore to himself, that one day, whether it be in the near future, or in many years’ time, he would kill Michael and he would do it with his own two hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A boy can dream can't he?
> 
> Plot.Plot. Plot. But yeah , there is some angst on the way. 
> 
> In all seriousness I have mixed feeling about this chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

Only the best would do for Zachariah.

He refused to stay in the first room that Castiel showed him, because apparently it was too dark.  He didn’t want to have to light candles during the day time, not when they could just as easily give him another room that had more windows. So Castiel did, he took him down the hall and offered him the second guest bedroom. But no, apparently this room was too small, too cramped. And how could Zachariah possibly feel at home in a room that was no bigger than a storage cupboard? Castiel gritted his teeth and did his best to resist the urge spit a rude, Inlander insult at him. Did Zachariah really think he didn’t have anything better to do? No, that smug smile he was wearing made it clear that he was fully aware of how annoying Castiel found him, and that he was revelling in it. But Castiel was no longer the demure, obedient Prince that he was familiar with. Castiel wasn’t going to take his shit and if he kept this up he would have Benny throw him off the rooftop. That would shut him up.

“I’m not sure what you want me to do.” Castiel said as he closed the bedroom door behind them.  “We only have so many guest bedrooms, and they’re all very similar.”

“I’m not just a simple guest am I? I thought we were friends Castiel.”

Castiel had to stop himself from snorting aloud. Friends with him? Never.  Instead, he sighed. “I suppose you could have my old room. I had the furniture moved to the Kings suite, but I’m sure there’s some lying around somewhere.”

Zachariah nodded, pleased. “That sounds perfect.  I’ll go have someone see to it right away. You should go and rest now, you look awfully tired.”

If anyone was to blame for that, it was him, but Castiel had no intention of staying with him any longer than he needed to. The letters tucked away in his pocket felt heavy, as if reminding him that he needed to read them and he needed to read them now.

“You’re right. I should go and lay down.” Castiel turned to leave.

“Yes, but you will have dinner with me won’t you? There’s so much we need to discuss.”

“Of course,” He assured him.

Castiel took his leave and made his way through the castle corridors and into his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, leaving Benny and Victor outside to stand watch, and pulled the letters out of his pocket. He had been desperate to read them ever since Zachariah had handed the over, but he for obvious reasons hadn’t been able to. Gabriel’s letter was on the top of the pile, and as Castiel read it he realised it was less of a letter and more of a report. It was short, snappy and careful.  

It read:

_Cassie_

_Just to let you know I haven’t fallen down the stairs again, and ignoring the sweaty Inlanders stomping around the place, eating all our food and stealing all of our women, everything is alright._

_Your hubby and Mikey have been busy making all sorts of plans. And before you yell at me, no I haven’t been annoying him. I’ve kept my distance. Mikey is gunna ship me and Anna off to the villa in a few days so you won’t be hearing from us. Not until all of this shit is over._

_Just thought I’d let you know._

Castiel sighed in relief. At least they would be safe and away from Michael for a while. He hadn’t been to the villa in years, but if he remembered correctly then his siblings would be living in the lap of luxury for a few weeks. Or however long it took for all of this to blow over. Not only that, but Gabriel had kept his word and had stayed out of trouble, even if it meant rolling over and submitting to Michael’s will. Gabriel must have hated that, but if it ensured that Michael would leave him alone then it was worth it. Or so Castiel thought.

Castiel folded up Gabriel’s letter and put it down on the desk.  He then picked up Dean’s letter and immediately noticed there was something off about it. Not the fact that the paper was scrunched and wrinkled, or that it hadn’t even been signed properly. But more so that there was a bulge in the envelope, something hard and oddly shaped. Castiel pried open it and… It was a seashell? It was still covered in grains of sand and Castiel belatedly realised that Dean must have picked this up on the beach. He smiled as he held it to his ear and listened to the quiet hiss that came from within. He used to do that as a child and even now it still never failed to amuse him, even after all of these years.  Dean couldn’t have known that, but it was still a sweet and thoughtful gift. Much better than any piece of silver or gold that he had been given over the years. Oh and look, now he was crying. Over a seashell of all things.

Castiel shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. It was stupid, but he was happy. These were happy tears.

Flicking open the letter, Castiel frowned at how messy the handwriting was.  That in itself wasn’t a concern, after all Dean’s hand writing did leave a lot to be desired. But it was just…  It was a more scrawled than usual, he must have been pressing down on the quill too hard and at some point it must have snapped as there was a big splodge of ink on the page. But after that his writing smoothed out and it looked thinner as if he was now using a different, more slender quill. This letter had been written in a hurry and Castiel had a feeling that it wasn’t because Dean had been excited, or eager. What had his last letter been about again, what had caused Dean to be so…. Oh. How could he have forgotten _that_? It was true that he had gotten swept away in the whole mess of Zachariah’s arrival, but that was no excuse. He had to stay focused; he couldn’t just forget things like this! But here it was, the letter Castiel had been waiting for, dreading, the letter that could make or break their relationship. He didn’t want to read it, not really. Looking at it was one thing, but taking in the words was another. And it took a great deal of courage and determination to read Dean’s words on the page.

_Cas_

_Please, I’m begging you don’t be sorry._

_You’ve done **nothing** wrong, and you’ve got absolutely nothing to be sorry for. This is really good news Cas, I’m so happy that I can’t even put it into words. I’m going to be a dad!  If our kid is anything like you they’re gunna be amazing. I just know it._

_I can’t wait to see you again and I’m not even going to deny that I think about you and our kid every day. I’ll come home to you as soon as I can._

_Till then stay safe._

_Forever and always yours, Dean._

Castiel was crying again, but it wasn’t the seashell this time. He had spent all that time worrying and for what? Sam had been right; of course he had been right.  Just seeing it for himself though, knowing that Dean was happy, elated, it put all of his worries to rest.  He lightly pressed his hand against his stomach and smiled softly to himself.

“You’re not even born yet and you’re already a trouble maker aren’t you? Just like your Father.”

* * *

 

Castiel had a new shadow.

By now he was used to Benny and Victor following him around, in fact he quite liked it, but Zachariah was a new and unwelcome addition.  His two guards did their best to give him space and for the most part kept to themselves unless they were spoken to. But Zachariah showed Castiel no such consideration.  He would always stand too close and walk by his side as if they were equals, as if Castiel actually wanted him there.  He would follow him to the library and hover around in the room, peering over his shoulder to read whatever book Castiel had laid out on the table. Even when Castiel went to the gardens to relax he would see Zachariah slithering around in his peripheral vision. And it made him cringe. Was he just being a menace? Or was he up to something sinister?

Castiel was inclined to agree with the latter, because on several occasions he had tried to bully his way into Sam’s council meetings. He had insisted that Castiel needed him there, that he was his trusted friend and ally. But no, Sam was having none of that and had sent him packing and rightly so. Zachariah was also dedicating a great deal of his time to talking to people, whether they be servants or nobility it didn’t matter to him. They were all fair game, and Castiel was sure he was gathering information from them. But as to what sort, he had no idea.

Castiel only knew one thing for certain, and that was that Zachariah was sending and receiving letters from Oceania on a regular basis. So was he a spy then, hidden in plain sight? Or was he just a nosey bastard who couldn’t keep to himself? Castiel didn’t know and frankly, if Zachariah wanted to dig around then he was welcome to. He wasn’t going to find anything because there wasn’t anything to find. Nothing that would interest him anyway. It was a massive waste of Michael’s and Zachariah’s time and effort, and because Castiel really didn’t like either of them he was happy enough to leave it be. For now.

He had more important things to focus on, his investigation was his top priority at the moment and until the situation changed he intended to keep it that way. However, with Zachariah sniffing around things weren’t exactly smooth sailing. The last thing Castiel wanted to do was get that smarmy ass hat involved, so he had to tread carefully and be careful who to spoke to. After all, one of the guards had witnessed Zachariah pay one of the servants to, as he put it, ‘observe the goings on in the castle and report your findings back to me.’ Still, Castiel wasn’t going to let this deter him, he was doing to get to the bottom of this mess and no one was going to stop him.

* * *

 

Yawning, Castiel rubbed at his tired eyes. He had only just woken up and yet there seemed to be some sort of commotion in the throne room.  He had left his bedroom because he had an awful craving of cherry tarts and yet rather than following his stomach he had followed his ears. So many voices were talking at once and so he couldn’t differentiate one from another; it was just a jumbled mess of noise and chatter. As Castiel neared he suddenly was grateful for the fact that he had decided to get dressed, rather than wander around in his bed clothes, because it appeared as though the whole court was in attendance. Was there some sort of event on today? Or did Sam plan to make an announcement?  Castiel wasn’t sure, and the only way he would be able to find out was to go and see for himself. Benny and Victor cleared him a path through the gathering crowd and they all stepped into the throne room. Standing atop the small flight of stairs was Sam and stranger, who held a scroll in his hands.  The man cleared his throat, the room fell silent and he then began to read aloud.

“Lords and Ladies of the court, I bring good news from Oceania.” He paused for a moment as he waited for the excited chatter to die down once more. And he then continued with a loud and clear voice. “Five days ago his royal Majesty’s army, along with our Southern allies, met a large force of demons on the field of battle, and emerged victorious. This hard fought and well deserved victory has enabled our army to gain ground and drive the demon scum away from Oceania’s borders.  The King is confident, and in good spirts, as are his soldiers, who continue to serve him loyally and without question. His Majesty sends his love and gratitude, and hopes that he can soon return to see you all again in person.  However, his Majesty makes a point of reminding you all that the war has only just begun, and that it is imperative that we all remain focused and willing to lend support, to his Majesty’s cause.”

As soon as the messenger had finished reading the announcement, the whole room erupted into loud conversation. The relief was tangible in the air and Castiel couldn’t help but close his eyes and whisper a quick thank you to the Goddess for watching over his husband.  The war wasn’t over, as Dean had said it had only just begun, but this was a good sign wasn’t it? It proved that the demons weren’t an undying force of evil that plagued the world, they were just people. Awful, cruel people, who lived, breathed and could die like everyone else.  

Just thinking of Dean being so valiant and brave, all dressed in his armour and with a sword in hand… Well, perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to think of such things when he was surrounded by chattering nobles. He would have to wait till later, when he was in his bedroom, alone. Then he could think of Dean until his heart was content. Amongst other things. Just because his husband was at the other side of the continent it didn’t mean that he would refrain from touching himself if and when he needed to. He was sure that Dean wouldn’t mind, in fact it would probably make him grin like the cat who ate the canary.  But that was beside the point, and Castiel really had to stop thinking about touching himself and Dean if he didn’t want to scandalise the entire court.

So instead he cleared his throat and made his way up the few steps so he could stand by Sam’s side.

“This is wonderful news!” Castiel grinned, unable to stop himself.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I’m surprised they managed to get word here so fast.  Must have had someone already stationed on the road or something.”

Castiel frowned and tilted his head a little. “You don’t seem too excited.”

“I am. Things couldn’t have gotten off to a better start, it’s just….  I’m worried about how they’ll retaliate. Lucifer doesn’t seem like the sort of guy who would appreciate having his ass kicked.”

Sam was right; Lucifer had always been a sore loser. And the fact that he was fighting this war was irrefutable proof of that. “I trust Dean. He’s fought them before; he knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah.” Sam mussed up his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. This is good news, I’m just overthinking. I didn’t think it’d be this hard you know? Dad made governing seem so easy and Dean… Well, so did he.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. Governing obviously wasn’t Dean’s favourite part of being the monarch, but given the circumstances he was doing a very good job so far. But it wasn’t as if Sam had brought Winchester to ruin either. He was doing his best to be a fair and just leader in his brother’s absence and it really did show. Compared to Dean he was a little (well a lot) more organised, he attended and was on time for each and every council meeting , and made the appropriate public appearances when necessary. Even if he couldn’t stand them.  All in all Sam was an excellent regent, even if at times he didn’t feel like it.

“I think you’re doing a fine job.” Castiel told him.

Sam snorted. “Please. I’m not Dean, you don’t need to flatter me.”

“I’m not! You’re doing just fine.” He assured and gave his shoulder a pat.  “Dean would be proud of you.  I’m sure of it.”

* * *

 

By now it was impossible for Castiel to conceal his condition.

 No matter what style of clothing he wore or how many layers he covered himself up with, there was no hiding the fact that he was several weeks pregnant.  He could suck his tummy in and yank at his clothes as hard as he wanted, but it made no difference, many of his clothes just didn’t fit him anymore. They were too tight around his stomach and even the baggier shirts and trousers he wore weren’t comfortable enough for him to wear them any longer than a couple of hours. And so, he was left with two options, he could either start wearing Dean’s clothes, which were at least a couple of sizes too big but they would fit comfortably. Or he would have to have some clothes especially made for him and his growing bump.  He knew just the tailor for the job, and Castiel was sure that he would work quickly and with discretion. He chose the latter.

However, Castiel knew that he was delaying the inevitable, that as soon as he stepped into court that all eyes would be on him and his obvious baby bump. And he was right.  He was bombarded with questions, congratulations and the occasional implication that the child wasn’t Dean’s. Castiel, of course, didn’t appreciate being accused of adultery, but he knew that he had nothing to fear. The child was Dean’s; there was no way that it couldn’t have been. And those who suggested otherwise were hardly of a high standing in court, they were just doing their best to stir up trouble. And for the most part, the nobility ignored them.

It was just… as he sat at the head table he couldn’t help but think of whether this was the sort of life he wanted to raise his child in. The lies, the backstabbing and the fake smiles, it was all so devious. He lived in a world of murderous demons, and of Lords and Ladies who would smile to his face but as soon as soon as he looked away they would turn on him like a pack of rabid wolves.  Dean was doing his best to address one problem, but what was Castiel doing? Sitting around being, grumpy, hungry and fat? It was frustrating and even just sitting there watching Winchester’s nobility eat their food and drink their wine was enough to annoy the hell out of him. His fingers drummed against the table and his glower was enough to even cause Jessica, who was quite possibly the sweetest girl in all of Winchester, to give him a wide birth. She stuck firmly by Sam’s side (who was currently having a conversation with one Lord or another) and smiled at him from a distance.

 Just thinking about these sorts of things was enough to make him feel pretty miserable and crabby, which was a sharp contrast to how he was laughing and smiling only minutes ago. Mood swings were the devil, and Castiel had decided that he wasn’t the sort that glowed with pregnancy. He was a grumpy asshole, and the servants who tended to him had long come to terms with that. Hell, he had even yelled at one of them because they had forgotten to bring him some juice with his breakfast the other morning. He was a terrible human being.  The worst.  And right now he really wanted some gingerbread.

Is this what his life was reduced to? Cravings, temper tantrums and his investigation?  Castiel supposed that he could live with it, after all even he had to do his part to serve his King and country. Even if it meant snooping around whilst stuffing his face with sweet treats, he could live with that.

* * *

 

Castiel had made some headway in his investigation. He had determined that the assassins had gained entrance into the castle through the back door. One of the kitchen hands, a young man called Alan Corbett, had either knowingly or unknowingly let them in and had failed to report his involvement in the assassination of King John. Castiel had hoped to be able to interrogate him, to see if he could gain more information from him, but unfortunately the boy was dead. His body had been recently found in a ditch by a local farmer. And according to the guards report he had been stabbed through the neck with a short, sharp blade. Much like the knife that Castiel’s attacker had used.  From there, the assassins had infiltrated the castle, and avoided the guards using the information that Matthew Pike had provided them with.

 After successfully wounding the King the first assassin was reported to have fled into the servant’s quarters, where they seemingly vanished into thin air. Castiel had retraced their steps in an effort to try and figure how he had escaped, but that led him nowhere. It was as if the assassin had just disappeared, either that or they had help from the inside. And so Castiel began to offer money in exchange for information, he made it well known that it didn’t have to be much, that every little helped. But even so, no one came forward. Were the servants scared? Were they worried about what might happen to them if they tattled?

After that, Castiel’s investigation had ground to a halt. He couldn’t force people to talk if they didn’t want to, he didn’t have a way to differentiate between those who were completely ignorant and those who just didn’t want to speak. And to make matters all the worse, not only did Castiel have to do his best to avoid the servants that were being paid to spy for Zachariah, but the man himself was turning out to be a real menace. Conducting this investigation was hard enough as it was, but having him sniff around and constantly badger him about what he was doing made it all the more difficult. Why was he talking to this person? Why was he talking to that person? It was driving Castiel insane. He couldn’t even chase Zachariah away with his mood swings; he just was so determined to follow Castiel around whether he wanted him there or not.

And so, that was what drove Castiel to come up with such a drastic plan.

“Victor please I’m begging you.” Castiel pleaded, clasping his hands together in front of him. “It won’t be for long, two hours at most.”

Victor did not look pleased. “I said no. I swore to watch over you, not that scumbag. “

“I know, but I’m only asking because I have no other choice.  Zachariah can’t find out about what I’m doing, and he’s already beginning to suspect I’m up to something. I just need two hours, please?”

Victor looked to Benny, who merely shrugged. 

“Fine.” Victor grumbled and turned to look over his shoulder.  Zachariah seemed as though he was about done talking to the messenger.  “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t matter, just keep him away from me.”

That wasn’t much of a response and Castiel knew it, but luckily Victor didn’t push the matter further. He just huffed, strode up to Zachariah and tapped him on the shoulder. Zachariah turned to look at him, momentarily distracted.

“I think that’s our cue.” Benny murmured, and gently tugged Castiel around the corner.

They walked quickly down the corridor, trying to put as much distance between them as they could. Castiel knew that Zachariah would notice his absence sooner or later and that he might be rather annoyed that he slipped away. But he didn’t care. Zachariah could pretend all he wanted, but he wasn’t Castiel’s guardian and he had absolutely no authority over him. It was infuriating that he had to resort to such methods, in his own home no less, but if it meant that he could actually focus on his investigation without having to worry about Zachariah breathing down his neck then so be it.

“So what’s the plan boss? Want me to shake some people up, get them to talk?”

Castiel faltered. “What? No, why would you even think that?”

“Well asking politely’s gotten you nowhere. Someone around here knows something; they’re just not willing to speak. I figured roughing them up might loosen their tongues.”

Castiel frowned. Oh how he adored Benny and he understood that he was only trying to help, but beating up potential witnesses?  Really? He knew that violence was sometimes a necessary evil, and he would be a hypocrite to say that he would never hurt someone (because had and he had made a right mess of it), but there was a time and a place. And Castiel really didn’t think that it would do them any favours, if anything it would further discourage people from coming forward.

“Let’s not do that.” Castiel decided.

“Hmm. What then? We don’t have much time and Victor is gunna be pissed if we spend it sitting around with our thumbs up our asses.”

“Benny!” Castiel gasped, and slapped his arm. He could see why he and Dean got along so well.

The guard just laughed.  “All right, I’ll be serious. You know you’ve got some man power at your disposal, you don’t have to handle this on your own.”

“I know, but I think the less people are involved, the better.”

“Yeah, right. Makes sense, we don’t know who’s on our side and who’s not.”

“Exactly.” Castiel agreed and came to a stop.

They had been walking for a few minutes now, and if Castiel remembered correctly then the servant’s quarters would just be around the corner.  He had some money in his pocket, not much but it would serve as a reward and hopefully would be enough to lure any potential witnesses out of the wood work. This method hadn’t worked before, but he hoped that if he were to offer it in person they might-

A young man stepped into sight from around the corner. He was walking fast, his head bowed down as he looked at the floor. He suddenly barged into Castiel’s shoulder and hurried along without even looking up or apologising.  

“Watch where you’re going!” Benny snapped, glowering after him.

Castiel rubbed at his sore shoulder with a frown, what was that about? He had been standing right in the middle of the hallway, so it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have been able to see Castiel. And besides, what was a servant doing rushing about like that? They were supposed to conduct themselves in a proper manner, not stomp about like a grumpy teenager. Oh well, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t hurt and he didn’t feel like making a big fuss out of this. With a sigh, Castiel put his hand into his pocket and it was then he realised that there was something in there, something that hadn’t been there before. A note, the servant had given him a note.

It read:

_Please stop looking. **They** know._

“Is everything all right? You’re not hurt are you?” Benny asked, turning to look at him after an prolonged moment of silence.

Castiel stared, stunned, before he snapped into action. “Find him and bring him to me. Now!”

Benny nodded and sprinted down the hallway, before skidding around the corner and out of sight.  Castiel waited impatiently on the spot, hoping, praying that they would find the mysterious young man. Castiel couldn’t remember his face, and he cursed himself for not paying close enough attention. It all just happened so fast. But he was fairly certain that he hadn’t seen him before, that he wasn’t a servant that tended to Castiel personally. So who was he? And why had he given him this note? But more important who were _they_? Was he referring to his investigation? Did his enemies know that he was snooping around where he shouldn’t?

They were all troubling thoughts and it sent a cold shiver down Castiel’s spine.

From the beginning he had known that his investigation would be risky, that he would be putting himself in danger. But it was a chance he was willing to take, and he knew that as long as he was careful he everything should would be all right. He had his guards to protect him and they had taken every precaution they possibly could to keep him safe. But now he was alone. He had sent them both away, one on a wild goose chase and the other as a distraction. He was so stupid.  He was with child for Goddesses sake! He should have been so much more careful! The assassins had easily murdered their King and a young man who had so much to live for, so what would stop them from killing him just because he was pregnant? They had already tried once and Castiel was sure that he had given them an incentive to try again.

 **_They_ ** _know._

Faintly, down the hall, Castiel heard footsteps.  They were slow and confident against the old stone floor. Thud thud thud. Castiel covered his stomach protectively and pulled out the blade he had hidden beneath his jacket.  It was the knife that he had given Dean as an engagement present, the same one he had killed his attacker with. Castiel was no warrior, he hadn’t received a single day of training in his life, but he was scared, terrified and that made him dangerous.

“Who goes there?” He yelled, ignoring the tears that stung his eyes. “Show yourself!”

A shadow rounded the corner and Castiel tensed, ready to spring into attack.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!!!!! Who is it? Is Cas gunna shank someone? Who knows?


	24. Chapter 24

Castiel’s grip tightened around blades hilt as a figure rounded the corner, tall and unsuspecting. Good, at least he would have the essence of surprise. After all, he wasn’t as quick and as nimble as he used to be. But there was no time to worry about that, he had to strike first if he wanted to have any chance of surviving this. And Castiel had every intention of surviving. He lunged, driving the knife forward. There was a startled yell and the attacker grabbed at Castiel’s wrist and yanked him closer before he even had the chance to bury to bury his knife into his chest. Castiel struggled, kicked at him, but it was no use. He was just too strong. He flailed in panic like a hapless rabbit caught in a trap, there was nothing he could do, he just didn’t have enough room to use his knife.  For all it was worth he might as well have been wielding a sewing needle.

So this was it then?  He was going to die. At least he was going to go out fighting; this was a much better alternative to dying sick and alone in bed. Honestly, it wasn’t the thought of dying that bothered him so much, that caused him to resist and fight with all of his remaining strength. It was the fact that if he failed then his child would die, that Dean would return to find that he had lost one half of his family in one fell swoop. Castiel couldn’t do that to Dean and he most certainly couldn’t allow that to happen to their child. Not when they hadn’t even had a chance at life yet. The two of them must have been causing quite a commotion, Castiel could hear his attacking yelling, saying something. But the words didn’t register. And he was sure that he was making quite a racket too. Someone had to have heard them by now. How long had they been wrestling over the knife? Seconds, minutes or hours? He didn’t know and he couldn’t ponder on it, he just had to keep fighting, keep trying to survive.

“Castiel!” The attacker shouted so loud that he could feel the word vibrate in his chest.

The blade clattered to the floor, and the attacker kicked it away and out of reach.  He took a step back and his raised his hands in submission.

“Cas, listen! It’s me, Sam! I’m not going to hurt you, so stop freaking out!”

Castiel stared, dumfounded.  “Sam?

“Yeah it’s me.”

Castiel let out a slow, shaky breath as he leaned against the wall and wrapped his arms around himself. He was exhausted, absolutely and completely exhausted. But he was safe; it had been Sam all along. There had never been any attacker; he had just worked himself up over nothing. And for what? He had tried to kill Sam for crying out loud!  Castiel would never have been able to forgive himself if he had hurt him, let alone actually managed to, Goddess forbid, kill him. But from the looks of it, Sam was okay. There wasn’t any blood on his clothes and he didn’t look any worse for wear. The Winchester’s were a tough bunch, war hardened, and it would take much, much more than this to bring one of them down. Pampered prince or not, it appeared as though Sam was no exception to that rule.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Zachariah?” Sam asked with an amused huff, as if he didn’t blame him.

“No no no. Well, maybe, but no.”

What was he supposed to say? That he thought there was another assassin in the castle?  That he thought his life was in danger? Suddenly Castiel was unsure. He had kept Sam out of this whole mess so far and stubbornly he wanted it to stay that way. He wasn’t sure if it was his paternal instincts kicking in, but wanted to protect him, to keep him safe. Castiel knew that Sam would want to help, even if he at first would be mad that he had been stupid enough to try and deal with this on his own.  But it wasn’t as if Castiel had any choice here, he knew he could trust Sam, but as for everyone else? Each and every day the list of people he could trust was dwindling lower and lower. Not only that, but Castiel knew that Sam would report right back to Dean about how stupid and careless he had been in his absence.  Dean had enough to deal with as it was, he didn’t want him to worry unnecessarily, especially when he had a demon horde marching towards him.

So Castiel lied.

“I thought I saw someone, but I didn’t.  It must have been my imagination.”

“You sure?  I could get the guards to look around, just in case. Oh and speaking of, I know you sent Victor to sic Zachariah on me, and thanks for that by the way. “Sam paused and looked around as if he noticed something was missing.  “Where’s Benny?”

“Right here.” 

The corners of Sam’s lips ticked up in amusement. “Where have you been? And why are you out of breath?”

Benny hesitated for a second, before he lied easily, fluently. “Had to rush to the john.”

“And you left Cas alone?” Sam gestured to the knife on the floor, which Benny bent down to pick up.

“I was only gone a minute. Something happen?”

“Nothing.” Castiel insisted. “Other than me trying to stab Sam.”

“Huh? The usual then?”

“Precisely.”

“Well me and his Highness better get going. Unless you wanna spend the rest of the afternoon with a snake on your tail.”

“Yes, I think we should go.” Castiel turned to leave, but then stopped. “Oh and Sam, I am truly sorry.”

“For what, Zachariah or because you tried to kill me?” He was smiling so Castiel knew he wasn’t serious, or angry.

“Both I guess.” Castiel shrugged. It was also an apology for lying to him, but he couldn’t just go and say that could he?

 “Don’t worry about it, all right? I know that you’re… under stress. But I’m here if you need to talk. About anything.”

Castiel knew that he was just trying to help, but really he just ended up making him feel worse. “I know, thank you.”

* * *

 According to Benny, he had lost sight of the young man as soon as he had turned the corner.  But that hadn’t deterred him; he had spent the whole time looking into rooms and storage cupboards in an attempt to sniff him out. But it was all to no avail, he was nowhere to be seen. It was all very strange, and aside from the obvious, Castiel was beginning to suspect that something wasn’t quite right here. How could two men, who were being pursued, just vanish like that?  Both the Kings guard and Benny were intimately familiar with the castle; they had to be to be able to do their jobs properly. And yet, on two occasions they had allowed suspects to escape.

Castiel knew that this castle was old, very old, and that it hadn’t always belonged to Dean’s family, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the castle itself was the key to solving this mystery. It was true that he had been told to stop, that _they_ (whoever they were) knew about his investigation, but he just wouldn’t be able to rest easily knowing that more assassins could move about in the castle unseen. So yes, Castiel wasn’t a fool, and he was taking the threat very seriously but this wasn’t something he could just ignore. So he put on a front, he stopped asking around.  He didn’t make any more inquiries and he did his best to go about his everyday life.

Even though it was still early days, Castiel decided that now would be a good time for him to start gathering all of the things the baby would need.  It would need somewhere safe and warm to sleep, clothes to wear, blankets, toys, a sling so Castiel could carry it about, and so on so forth. The list was seemingly endless and Castiel realised that there was so much that needed to be done, and not a lot of time to do it. Luckily, he didn’t have to do all of it on his own. He was sure that there were all sorts of people in Winchester who would be happy to help him, for a price. So all he really needed to do was send out letters and wait for them to come to him. Which was easy enough for him to do.

For all intents and purposes it seemed as though he was nesting, that he was fully involved in making preparations for the baby, and that he was doing as he was told and had completely dropped investigation. However, despite Castiel’s pretence, he was not idle.  Aside from all that, he spent much of his time in the library. When he was at court, mingling with the nobles and talking to Sam and Jessica, he would often and quite loudly say that he was doing research. That he was a little nervous about his pregnancy and how he should care for the child once he or she was born.  And it was true, he was a little nervous and he had read a book or two on child care. But for the most part, he was researching the castle itself.

It had taken him about a week of scouring through documents, history books and castle layout plans, but he found it, undeniable proof that there was a series of secret passages hidden behind the castle walls. All hidden in plain sight where no one would even think to look.

Castiel smiled, feeling victorious.  He folded up the paper and handed it over to Benny.

“I want you to find someone who will able to make these tunnels inaccessible. A locksmith, a brick layer, I don’t know. Just find someone capable. And I don’t care much it will cost, just make sure they’re discreet and tell them if they breathe a single word of this to anyone you’ll have them arrested for treason.  No one can find out about this, do you understand?”

Benny was quiet, thoughtful for a moment. “I know just the man. Leave it to me.”

Castiel then turned to Victor. “I want you to gather ten of your most trusted men and post them near the passage entrances. If they ask why, don’t tell them a thing, the less people who know about this the better. I want to know who is using the passages. And again, be discreet, I don’t want any arrests, they’re just there to observe, all right?”

Victor nodded. 

“Good.” Castiel said and leaned back in his seat. “Let’s get to work then.”

* * *

 Everything was going to according to plan.

Within a week all of the passageways were sealed shut, much to the surprise of the few servants who tried to access them. According to Victor’s guards nine individuals, who were a mixture of men and women, used the passageways when they were open and showed obvious annoyance when they were no longer able to.  After that, some simply avoided going near the entrances, as if they sensed that they were being watched. Whilst others took the time to investigate the other hatches, only to find that they were sealed too.  One of them, a rather burly man (or so Castiel was told) apparently tried to break the wall down with a crude tool, before he proceeded to give up and fled the area.

So all in all, Castiel had nine suspects. He was certain that one of them had given him the note, and he fully intended to find out which one it was. However, that didn’t mean he was going to completely disregard the other eight people. After all, why were they using the passages? And did they have any connection to the assassination of King John? They were both very pressing questions and the sooner he got answers the better.

 It seemed as though those questions would have to wait, as Sam wanted to see him in Dean’s office.  Urgently.

As Castiel made his way to the King’s study, he couldn’t help but worry. What if Sam knew about everything?  If he did then he would be furious, Castiel was sure of that.  Sam didn’t seem to be the sort who would appreciate being lied to, especially when there had been several instances in which he could have come clean. Castiel would do his best to try and explain why he had to left him out, but he didn’t think that it would do any good. Both Sam and Dean were as stubborn as mules and no amount of calm reasoning was going to help him. Not now.

Castiel knocked gently on the door and opened it once he was given permission to enter.  Sam was hunched over the desk, and his face was cast in shadows by the flickering candle to his left. In front of him there was a parchment, unfurled and torn at the edges.  Castiel took a quick peek at it and tried to read it upside down, but it was far too dark for him to see the words properly. And he wasn’t going to make it too obvious and lean over the table. Sitting down, Castiel linked his hands together on top of his stomach, by now it was a habit and it helped soothe his nerves.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked after a long moment passed by. Something had to be wrong; otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting there in silence like that would he?

“It’s…” Sam hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to put it. “Things aren’t going so well in Oceania.”

  For a moment Castiel was selfishly relieved, but that feeling was soon replaced with concern. “What do you mean? I thought we were winning.”

“I did too.”

“But how? Things were going so well.”

 Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes for a moment. “One night, their camp was attacked by a pack of hellhounds. Hundreds of them. They were taken completely by surprise, had no time to defend themselves. Hundreds of men were just torn apart, and even more were injured. Then a few days later the demons led an assault on the on one of their blockades. Dean just didn’t have enough men in the area or enough time to prepare a counter attack.  They barely-”

Castiel surged forward in his seat, panicked. “Is he okay?! Tell me he is unarmed!”

“He said he’s a little worse for wear, but for the most part he’s okay. Michael got hurt though.”

That wasn’t enough to put Castiel’s mind at ease.  It wasn’t as if he thought that Sam was lying. No, he trusted him completely and Castiel had never been given a reason to doubt him. It was just that the same thing couldn’t be said for Dean, as he had an awful habit of downplaying how he was really feeling.  He had done it when he was mourning the loss of his Father and Castiel was near certain that he was doing it now just so they wouldn’t worry.  Well it wasn’t working. Castiel was still fretting about him, and the only thing that would make him stop was if he could see that Dean was safe and sound with his own two eyes. But considering his condition, there was no way that was going to happen any time soon. So as much as it hurt, he would just have to deal with it.

 “You said Michael was hurt, is it bad?” He couldn’t claim that he was concerned for his brother, but it was still a question he felt compelled to ask.

Sam shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. “Dean managed to drag him away before he got himself killed. He’s just a little bit beat up, I’m sure he’ll live.”

Castiel nodded. “So… What are we going to do?”

“What can we do? It’s not like we have any men we can send as reinforcements.” Sam scoffed and shoved himself up and out of his seat. He paced to the window as if he planned on looking out of it but changed his mind at the last moment and turned on Castiel. “Dean’s out there, our men are fighting and dying, and for what!? We’re going to lose this war and I can’t do a damn thing about it!”

His bitter words sunk in and Castiel couldn’t think of anything to say. He just sat there, silenced by the thought of Dean so far away, surrounded by a sea of demons.  And like any man who was too far out at sea, he would drown.

Sam must have seen the horror on his face, because his expression suddenly softened and he sunk back down into his seat. “Cas I didn’t… I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

Castiel shook his head. Not only to dismiss the unnecessary apology, but also to try and chase away those ugly, lingering thoughts.  Not that it did much good, they had already dug in deep and no amount of assurances was going to change that.

“It’s all right; it’s not your fault.”

 “You don’t need this right now. You need to stay calm, happy. Stress free.”

The corner of Castiel’s lips ticked up in a wry smile. “I’m not sure that’s possible at this point.”

Sam grimaced.  “This was a stupid idea, I shouldn’t have called for you.”

“No Sam.  This wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I needed to nonetheless. Promise me you won’t hide anything from me. Even if it will hurt.”

“Okay.”

Castiel nodded and slowly pushed himself up out of his seat.  He felt tired, feeble, and even though he hadn’t even had dinner yet (which was an oddity in itself because it was rather late) he didn’t have much of an appetite. He just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep all of his troubles away. Everything would be better in the morning.

“Good night Sam.” Castiel muttered and slipped out of the office, letting the door click closed behind him.

* * *

 The room was dark, the curtains were shut and Castiel had blown out the candle on his bedside table hours ago. All was quiet, peaceful, and yet Castiel tossed, turned, and fretted in his sleep.  Images flashed in his mind, the clashing of swords, the screams of dying men, and the snarling of great black hounds that were larger and more vicious than wolves. Castiel waded through a sea of bodies and with each step he sank deeper and deeper into their grasp. Their lifeless fingers gazed across his stomach in a sickening caress. _What a precious child._ And he felt their bloodshot eyes stare at him with accusation.  _This is all your fault; I wouldn’t be dead if he weren’t for you!_

In the distance there was a mound of corpses, stacked up high like a mountain, and on its peak there was a golden throne that had lost its shine. From afar the seat seemed empty, but once Castiel had managed to scramble his way to the top he realised that it wasn’t. On the seat laid a single red rose that was scorched by fire.  Castiel reached out to touch it, only to cut himself on one of its many thorns. He hissed in pain and yanked his hand away. But now, the throne was no longer empty. Dean sat slumped over in the seat, his head bowed, eyes closed, and with his arms hanging limply at his sides. There was a quiet plip plip plip as blood trickled from his mouth and landed onto his lap. He was wearing his crown, but it was tilted on his head and instead of being incrusted with jewels it was decorated with blood splatter in a wonderful combination of gold and red.  Red and gold.

Castiel sunk to his knees and Dean straightened in his seat.

He stared with glassy eyes and a smiled twisted smile that didn’t belong to him. Dean lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of Castiel’s hair and pulled him to his feet. Castiel didn’t struggle; he just stood there, placid and willing. He was ready. He deserved this.

“I love you so much.” Dean murmured his voice raspy and sore from screaming. “We’ll be together forever and always. “

Dean grabbed the sword from his belt and thrust it through Castiel’s stomach, until it came out on the other side.  He held him close for a moment, stroked Castiel’s hair and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“It’s better this way. I won’t let them hurt you.”  Dean murmured and pressed a bloody kiss to Castiel’s mouth before he shoved him back and watched him plummet off the edge of the mountain and into darkness.

Castiel awoke with a jolt and sprang up in bed. 

He yanked the quilt back and pressed a hand to his stomach. Thank the Goddess, he was fine. The baby was fine. It was just a dream, a horrible, awful dream but just a dream nonetheless. For one terrifying moment he had thought….  Castiel shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. But it was no use; there was no stopping them now. Not after that. Admitting defeat, Castiel laid back down again and hid his face against Dean’s pillow, smothering the sob that escaped his lips.

* * *

 Understandably, Castiel wasn’t in the best of moods.

 After what happened, it was impossible for him to go back to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. And even after his tears had dried up he was still a hiccupping and snotty nosed mess.  So not only was he exhausted physically, but he was drained emotionally as well. Which really was a terrible combination. Castiel knew that he had told Sam not to hide anything from him, but after his dream last night he was really considering going back on his word.  Ignorance was bliss, right? What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. And to say that his awful dream had just simply hurt him was a wild understatement.  No, it had been sheer agony in every sense of the word. It was every single one of worst his fears realised and shoved in his face.

Still, Castiel had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t hide away in his room and flinch at the sight of shadows.  Dean was alive and well and absolutely no harm had come to their child. Castiel repeatedly told himself to focus on that. But it was hard to pretend otherwise, it had just been so real, so vivid.  And even with the dream aside, he still had too much to worry about. Things were so uncertain and there was no way he, nor anyone, could predict what tomorrow would bring. He needed stability and comfort. And with the world as it was, there was no way he could get it. It was all just a vicious cycle. He would think of his dream, and it would upset him. So he would then assure himself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a figment of his imagination. But then his thoughts would turn to reality and he would think about how royally screwed they all were. Which would lead him back to thinking about his dream all over again. And so, Castiel was in dire need of a distraction and once again his investigation served as a suitable alternative.

Since Castiel had already done most of the leg work, all he had left to do was narrow down his suspects.  But like most things, that was easier said than done. There were so many servants who worked in the castle, and whilst there was some sort of system in place to keep a track of them, it didn’t exactly make the task of finding them any easier. Victor’s men reported that four of them had been male and the other five were female.  So that narrowed things down, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more information, and so Castiel pressed his guards to find out. Who were they? Where did they live? And what job did they have in the castle? As always discretion was key, and so Castiel once more had to take a step back and allow his guards to handle the situation.

“Then what about this design, your Highness? This crib is spacious and has curtains so that the Prince or Princess will be able to sleep during the day time if they so choose.”

Castiel tilted his head as he looked at the sheet of paper that was laid down on the table in front of him. This was the fourth design he had been shown and honestly he wasn’t all that impressed. As he had said, this crib was for a Prince of Princess, so only the best would do. Did the carpenter really think that these designs were the best? No. Castiel didn’t like any of them, they just didn’t feel right. So he turned his nose up at it, and he didn’t even care about how rude he was being. At this point he was beyond caring about such things.

“No, I don’t like it.” Castiel said. “Thank you for your time sir, but I don’t think I will be needing your services.”

There were plenty more carpenters in Winchester and Castiel was sure that one of them would be able to make something he liked, something that was suitable for his child. Without even offering another word to the carpenter, Castiel stepped out of the library and went into the hallway with his two guards following in tow. He didn’t know either of their names, but he vaguely remembered seeing their faces around the castle once or twice. Benny and Victor were busy, so he just had to make do with their substitutes. Even if they were a little too stiff for his liking.

“Where do you wish to go now your Highness? To the kitchens?” One of the guards asked.

Castiel turned sharply on him. “No, I don’t want to go to the kitchens. Why would I want to go to the kitchens? Is it because I’m fat, is that it?”

“I…No! That isn’t what I was suggesting. Please forgive me your Highness.”  The guard sunk to his knees and didn’t dare to look at him.

Castiel huffed. By the Goddess he missed Benny and Victor.  “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Just take me back to my room, please.”

Soon enough, Castiel closed his bedroom door behind him and went to get comfortable on the bench by the fire.  He didn’t even have a chance to gather his thoughts as a moment later there was a knock on the door and before Castiel could even respond, Victor stepped into the room.

“We’ve got him.”

Castiel sprung to his feet and grabbed the note out from its hiding place beneath the rug. “Take me to him.” He commanded.

* * *

 “His name’s Jesse Turner.  He’s a stable hand, was hired to take care of Inias for you.” Benny told Castiel as he leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed against his chest.

Castiel sat down on the chair that had been provided from him. On the opposite side of the table, the young man- Jesse- was sitting down as well. Though he didn’t seem nearly as comfortable in his seat. He kept fidgeting, looking as though he wanted to flee, but it seemed as though he knew better than that. After all, Benny and Victor would be on him in an instant and this time they wouldn’t be as gentle with him. Now that Castiel could get a good look at him, he did feel as though he had seen him before.  He didn’t visit Inias as nearly as often as he should, but when he did he was sure that he had seen Jesse there in the background, either sweeping the floor, bringing Inias back from the fields or filling up his water trough. It was a little startling to think that there were so many people in the castle that escaped his notice. They were practically invisible, and now he was certain that they used that to their advantage.

“How did you find him?”  Castiel asked.

Benny walked up behind him and leaned in close. “He was snooping where he shouldn’t have been, weren’t you Jesse?”

“I-”he flinched away. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell us what it’s like.”

Jesse shook his head and pressed his lips tightly shut.

“Fine. Thought I’d give you a chance, but if you’re that desperate to go straight to the dungeons then that’s fine with me.”

“No! Wait!” Jesse surged up in his chair, but Benny pushed him back down with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down will yah? Just answer whatever questions his Highness has and you’ll have nothing to worry about, capiche?”

“Okay.”

Castiel had been watching on in silence, but now it appeared as though this was his cue to speak. Pulling the note out of his pocket he laid it out on the table facing Jesse and pointed to it. “What do you mean by this, who are _they_?”

Again Jesse shifted uncomfortably. “You’re in danger, I wanted to help.”

“From who?”

“The same people as before.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.  He was just stating the obvious now. “Yes I know that, but who are _they_? You must know.”

Jesse looked about the room. “No one can hear us can they?”

Castiel highly doubted that. Victor had led him to an unassuming side room, the sort that no one would even think to enter because it had nothing in it. Well now it did a table and a couple of chairs but that wasn’t the point. Victor had explained that they couldn’t do this in the dungeon because it would be too obvious, that people would no doubt listen into their conversation. But here they were as safe as they were ever going to be.

“No, you’re completely safe.”

“Well okay… Um, have you ever heard of the demons?”

Was that a trick question? Castiel really couldn’t tell but he played along nonetheless. “Of course I have.  My husband is away fighting them at the moment. In fact, I was told that most of Winchester used to belong to them.”

“It did. People say they were all killed or driven out by the Kings army, but they weren’t. Not all of them.  A lot of them hid in plain sight, went underground.”

Castiel stared, speechless. But how… How was that possible? The history books said that King John had been thorough, that he hadn’t allowed a single demon to remain on his lands alive or dead.  And yet, Jesse was claiming the contrary, that they had been here the entire time doing Goddess knows what. Surely people would have noticed, they couldn’t have continued to exist right beneath everyone’s noses without arousing some sort of suspicion. Castiel turned to Benny and Victor for some sort of explanation, but they looked every bit as shocked as he did. But on top of that they looked angry, furious that the demons were still in their homeland. Castiel couldn’t wrap his head around all of this, so was Jesse was saying that the demons were behind all of their troubles?  They were the ones who vandalised his chapel, tried to have him killed, mortally injured the King and had likely killed hundreds of innocents just to remain hidden. Castiel felt sick. This was far worse than he could ever imagine, Winchester was infested with demons and it always had been.

“How do you know this?” Castiel asked.

“Because I’m one of them.”

Castiel automatically flinched away from him and Benny stepped closer, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Say that again, I don’t think I heard you right.” Benny said, his voice low and threatening.

Jesse threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m a demon, but it’s not what you think. My mother was a demon and my dad too, but I don’t want any part in this, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I swear!”

“Are there more demons like you in the castle?” Castiel asked, after finding his voice again.

“The ones you saw using the tunnels, they’re all demons.  I’m sure there’s more but they’re the only ones I know about.”

“So you’re basically saying they could be everywhere?” Victor cut in, speaking up for the first time.

Jesse nodded.

“Shit!” Benny hissed. “What do they want?”

Castiel didn’t need to wait for Jesse to respond to know the answer to that question. “They want to destroy us from the inside. “ He paused for a moment and then added. “They want their homeland back.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is belatedly dedicated to you Emily! Sorry I wasn't fast enough to finish it for your birthday!!
> 
> Oh and I'll be going on a hiatus now for a few weeks, uni work takes priority for now. But as soon as I have the time I'll start writing again. Thanks for your patience!


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